The Twins Potter
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: Roman Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived. He's famous, an idol. But behind closed doors, he's only a brother, albeit a famous one. When he begins Hogwarts, things begin to happen. Can the Potter siblings stay together through it all? What is going to happen to Sirius with Peter loose? Formally called The Potters being edited and revised, continuing!
1. Book 1: Grandmothers exist for a reason

_**Disclaimer/Author's Note: One, I do not own Harry Potter (sob) Second, I hope to take the idea of "Harry has a twin who is thought to be **__the__** BOY-WHO-LIVED, even though half of the time he's not, and the twin is conceited and Lily and James are stupid and Albus is vindictive and manipulative. (sigh) I'm making my own version of it. Yay. Enjoy. I hope it's at least (detail-wise) original. Also, I'll have some helpful timelines at the bottom of the page. Also, in case you didn't realize it, this is AU. **_

_**Note: We are going off the assumption that Dorea Black and Charlus Potter are James Potter's parents, thus Harry Potter's grandparents. **_

_**P.S. Anyone reading Ultimum Perditum, it is currently on hiatus. I'm sorry, but I've run out of creative juices right now. I don't know when I'll be continuing. I apologize deeply. **_

_**Any recognizable characters are not mine, any original characters ARE, and must be asked for permission BEFORE using. Thank you. **_

James Charlus Potter, age 21, laid his son, Harry James Potter, down in one of the cots sitting in the nursery. The cot across from him contained Harry's older (by about 17 minutes and 33 seconds) twin, Roman Romulus Potter. Both boys had dark, messy hair, but Roman's eyes were hazel, while Harry's were more of a green-like his mother. The tot smiled sleepily up at his father, revealing small baby teeth and lots of pink gum. He rubbed his eyes and laid down.

"You ready?" asked Lily, James wife, her dark red hair curled around her thin face. Her eyes, as green as Harry's, sparkled with laughter as she glanced at her sons. Her stomach was slightly rounded with the newest Potter addition.

"Sure, let me just put the monkey down. Is Marie ok?" he muttered, handing Harry his stuffed dog, Padfoot. Marie was the Potters eldest child, at just under three years old. She had dark red hair like her mother, but her father's hazel eyes. The little girl was always following her parents around, getting into everything.

"Yes, Dory's got her right now." Dory being James' mother, Dorea Potter, the grandmother of Marie,Roman, and Harry. The old women always insisted Lily call her Dory, like "all her friends do, it's such a cute pet name!".

James smiled and took his wife's outstretched hand, letting her lead him downstairs, where Marie and Dory sat, playing with large, colourful building blocks. Their daughter stretched to place the last block on the tower, but as she did, turning with a triumphant grin, the entire tower toppled over. The toddler burst into tears, wailing.

"Hush, sweetheart," said Lily, picking Marie and rocking her, soothing the tears. "It's ok, Dory's going to help you rebuild the tower." Dory nodded energetically, as if to show her enthusiasm.

"Daddy!" cried Marie, waving at her father gleefully. "Bye-bye!" she grinned at her father, who scooped her up, hugging her.

"Good-bye, love," said James, placing his daughter on the floor. The three year old tottled after him for a few seconds before crashing to the floor.

"Bye-bye, Mummy. Bye-bye, Daddy,"

The Potter couple smile at their oldest before James handed Lily her coat and they walk out the door. They were heading to a Halloween party being held by Lily's longtime friend, Emmeline Vance. Though Lily was worried about her children, Emmeline had talked her into having a "little fun".

"Come on, Lils. You and James have been cooped up in safe house after safe house. Dory _wants_ to take care of the babies. This is your chance to _live_!"

So, having no other excuse, the Potters had agreed to come to her party. After all, they had Peter Pettigrew as their Secret Keeper. What could go wrong?

Dorea Potter groaned, feeling her bones creak and grumble as she stuttered to her feet. At sixty-one, she felt too young to feel so achy, her body caving in on itself.

Her granddaughter, Marie, giggled from her seat on the floor, copying the groans her little girl ears heard. "Ohhhh..." she moaned, giggling.

"Hush, you silly creature," laughed Dorea, picking up the toddler and setting her down on the couch.

"Harry!" laughed Marie, wiggling her fingers. "Roman! Harry! Mummy! Baby! Mummy has a baby in her tummy," she babbled, flipping over onto her back.

Just then, there was a crash outside. Dorea shuddered, turning to peek out the window.

"Dory, what happen?" asked Marie, stumbling up behind her. Dorea nearly jumped out of her skin. One hand flew to her heart, which was beating erratically.

"Oh, dear! Such a little fright, aren't you? A right devil," she grumbled pleasantly, emitting laughter from the toddler.

"Fright!" the girl cried, wiggling all over with pleasure. "Morry fright!"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you're very pleased to know you've frightened your poor grandmother, dear. Now, come sit on the couch, while Grammum goes outside. I heard strange noises and I want to make sure everything's ok. You stay inside and stay _on this couch_. Don't move, no matter what. Do you understand?"

The little girl nodded somberly, scrambling back to her seat, arms crossed. "Morry not move,"

Dorea smiled softly and creaked the door open a smidge, peeking outside. The street was dark and empty, not even small Muggle children running about. Cautiously, she took another step outside, glancing around for the source of the crash.

_Bang!_ She heard, jumping once more, flinching.

"Who's there? I'm warning you, I'm armed," _'Wow, what a cliché,'_ she thought to herself.

She peers out, past the yard, eyes searching for the noise. Dorea Potter wasn't about to let a couple of hyped-up teens scare her.

That was when she saw it. A dark, looming figure, heading down the street. Straight for their house.

'Almost_ as if he could _see_ the house,' _she thought to herself. '_he _is _coming towards the house!' _she gasped, wheeling backwards, nearly slamming into the front door in her haste to get inside.

Turning, she noticed her granddaughter, sitting worriedly on the couch, fingering an old, worn doll.

"Grammum? Grammum ok?" burbled the Marie, blinking up at her, innocent and fresh.

Dorea nodded, glancing twitchily at the door. "Come here, Morry. Let's go check on your brothers, eh? Make sure they're ok?"

"Harry and Rommy are babies," giggled Marie, following her grandmum upstairs.

Dorea leaned down and scooped the girl up, carrying her upstairs quickly. Behind them, there was a loud crashing noise. One of the babies began crying, a high, unreal sound.

"I'm coming, sweety!" she calls, hurrying. There's another bang, then a third. Marie began crying in her arms, wailing for her mummy.

"Shh, shh," she murmurs, rubbing Marie's neck softly, still rushing upstairs, away from the _thing_ banging down her son's door.

Just as she reaches the nursery, where the twins sit, one screaming, the other gaping, she hears the door burst behind her. Magic, strong magic whips through the house, nearly knocking her down. Marie's cries intensify, quickly joined by Roman's mewling and Harry's dry sobs.

A quick jab of her wand locks the door, if just briefly. She turns back to look at the three tots in front of her, two sobbing at the top of their lungs, the third with tears streaming down his face.

Then _the voice_. It's cold, calculating. Slipping upstairs, into her heart.

"I know you are there, Mrs. Potter. I can hear you. You're grandchildren shall not escape me. Merely turn the boys over and I shall let you go free."

Marie and Roman fall quiet, ears perking up as they listen to this new voice.

There's an odd silence that echoes loudly around the house, and they all freeze in their tracks, four pairs of eyes blinking at each other in pure nothingness.

"Mummy?" cried Marie suddenly, the bubble of silence popping.

"Shh, shh, stay very quiet, Morry," Dorea murmured into her granddaughter's ear. Instead, the three year old began howling even louder.

And then, the door burst open and _he_ was standing in the doorway, wand aloft, a psychotic smile gracing his snake-like lips.

"Madame Potter, I presume? How nice to see you. Now, move aside so I can get to your grandson."

"You're insane," Dorea replied, sounding much braver than she felt. She set Marie behind her, standing in front of the cribs, arms thrown wide to protect the boys.

"I've been told that before. It has no affect on me. Now, please, step aside. I don't wish to spill pure blood when I don't have to."

"No,"

Voldemort smirked, raising his wand above her shoulder, pointed at the two boys huddled behind her.

"I'm giving you one warning, and I will be forced to kill you,"

Dorea's mind slowed down, wondering what to do. Her eyes widened as she recalled a spell her daughter-in-law had been researching, one about protection and dying for love.

"I'm not moving, asshole. You can leave,"

A long grin, and then, "_Avada Kedavra!" _

Dorea's body slumped to the floor, lifeless, a marionette whose strings have been cut.

"Grammum!" wailed Marie from her position on the floor. One of the twins began crying, though it was impossible to tell which one.

"And now," said Voldemort, pointing his wand at the boys. "_Avada Kedavra!"_ The flash of green light threw itself at one of the boys and then rebounded at Voldemort, who's eyes widened in surprise.

There was a loud creaking and then the sound of wood landing inches away from two fifteen month old boys' faces. Harry, who lay crumpled, was leaking blood from his forehead. His twin, Roman, shrieked lightly as his own blood trickled from the small _V_-like mark etched into his upper head.

Marie rubbed one eye, smearing tears across her cheeks. She was surrounded by dust and dirt, sneezing, breathing heavily.

"Grammum? Grammum, where bad guy go?"

But no one answered. No one could for years. Not even the great Albus Dumbledore.

_**So, for anyone who is curious;This is a time line:**_

_**January 19, 1979 Marie Lilian Potter is born**_

_**July 30, 1980 9:18 a.m. Neville Frank Longbottom is born**_

_**July 31, 1980 12:40 p.m. Roman Romulus Potter is born**_

_**July 31, 1980 12:57 p.m. Harry James Potter is born**_

_**October 31, 1981 7:18 p.m. James and Lily leave for a Halloween party, leaving Dorea Potter with her three grandchildren-Marie, Roman, and Harry **_

_**October 31, 1981 9:57 Dorea Potter hears strange noises outside and goes to investigate. She rushes inside, frightened. **_

_**October 31, 1981 10:08 Voldemort forces his way into the Potter's home, upstairs, where Dorea is hiding with Marie, Roman, and Harry**_

_**October 31, 1981 10:13 p.m. Voldemort kills Dorea Potter, and tries to kill a Potter twin, but the spell rebounds.**_

_**October 31, 1981 10:26 p.m. Albus Dumbledore arrives at Godric's Hallow, and proclaims Roman to be the Boy-Who-Lived**_

_**October 31, 1981 10:49 p.m. James and Lily Potter get an owl informing them of the attack; they get home at 11:03 p.m.**_

_**November 23, 1981 8:47-10:58 p.m. Bellatrix Lestrange and other Death Eaters attempt to kill Frank and Alice Longbottom, but fail. They are sent to Azakaban. **_

_**April 17, 1982 Charlus Sirius Potter is born **_

_**May 12, 1984 Alice Augusta Longbottom is born**_

_**May 9, 1984 Lily Dorea Potter is born**_

_**February 17, 1986 Evelyn Marlene Potter is born**_

_**April 4, 1986 Andromeda Katherine Black is born**_

_**October 16, 1987 Erik Algernon Longbottom is born**_

_**August 7, 1988 Alphard Regulus Black is born **_

_**August 22, 1989 Ruby Alice Potter is born **_

_**Also, on Morry and Dory's nicknames-I know two girls with these names (Marie and Dorea) and this was their nicknames. I thought they sounded cute and transferred them over to the story. (So, that's my shout-out to Dory and Morry. **_

_**Also, Morry, where's that brownie you promised me?) **_


	2. Roman Potter, the Boy Who Lived

_**A/N: (Urgh, I feel like the author's note is going to take up the entire chapter. I apologise in advance.) (Also, this chapter and all chapters posted like it until the end of Lent and all answers to questions or reviews will be taken upon by Elsbeth, a faithful friend. All of the story and it's answers were written by Lana, merely re-posted by Elsbeth. Loopholes, we live for.) **_

_**I'm only 14, with no degree in psychology, so if you want, you can ignore my author's message and just continue on with your life. However, I have been studying people's behaviors since I was around 10, and I've noticed a pattern; people have different mindsets in depending on location and situation. Example: You talk and act and think differently at home compared to school, or church, or with friends at a party. **_

_**That's where I'm going with Roman. Yes, he's the Boy-Who-Lived, but at home, he's nothing more than your rather arrogant brother. Maybe Mummy and Daddy give him a little more attention, but the situation's not awful. Until you put him into a social situation with "fans" and reporters, he's almost decent. His mindset changes, however, when he's in public. He becomes more arrogant, more "I'm special and you're not," It's not entirely his fault (don't get me wrong, it **is** somewhat his fault) but it's also his surroundings. Over the years, yes this will carry into family life, but not in drastic amounts. I mean, aren't all young kids and teens slightly self-absorbed? (If you are a child/teen don't chew me out, saying **I wasn't like that, I'm not like that**, 'cause face it, you are. We all are. ) Roman strikes me as someone who can be fairly nice and decent-until things don't go his way. Then, he melds into the mode of "I'm the bloody Boy-Who-Lived and you **will** do what I say or else." That's when he turns nasty. **_

_**The same thing goes with Lily and James. Alright, they treat Roman a little better than the other children, but their minds **have** been affected by their social situation. They are frequently surrounds by this idea that Roman is somehow "better" than his siblings. To the rest of the world, he's got a superhero status. They, Lily and James, slowly begin thinking that way themselves. Not all at once, but a slow gradual process. No one in their right mind (and I can't stress that point enough) would suddenly decide Child A is better than Child B, C, and D. **_

"_**But wait!" you say. "What about when Mummy treats Sally better than Timmy or Jonny? What about then?" Well, what if Timmy and Jonny get into more trouble than Sally, so she yells at them more. She doesn't **love** Sally more, it just appears that she's kinder because she doesn't reprimand the girl as often. Or maybe Mummy happens to have a preference to females. (A little nutters, but it's true! It could be possible.) Maybe Sally is smarter than Timmy and Jonny. Though this seems a little ridiculous, you've got to look at it from Mummy's childhood view. Is it possible that Mummy was raised in a home where the rule was the smartest kid, the one that got the best grades, was treated a little better? Maybe Sally is adopted, while her brothers are natural born. Or Timmy and Jonny is adopted, while Sally is the natural born child. There's an endless amount of possibilities why one child is treated better than all the others. It's important to compare how your parents were raised to how they raise you. Often times, that's a sign-we learn from our parents and grandparents. If your Mummy's mother had a certain way of raising her kids, chances are Mummy is going to raise you that way and you're going to raise **your **kids that way. **_

_**Look at the 'Teacher's Pet Syndrome'. Ms. Teacher likes Jenny better than the other 25 kids in her class. Why? Who knows? Once again, the possibilities and reasons have no logic and no end. It's not right, not in the case with James and Roman and Lily, not in any situation, but it happens, right? But then, all parents (and children, grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles, etc.) have flaws. Especially when it comes to kids. Their own kids. **_

_**But what's happening to James and Lily is slow-a natural build-up that's affecting their mind. Will they eventually come to see Roman as just a teensy bit better than the other kids? ABSOLUTELY! Just not dramatically, or all at once. It won't (not in my story and rarely in real life) happen immediately. Which is why I find it humorous that so many people say that Harry's sibling or Harry is so cruel to his/ her siblings. Or Lily and James are so oblivious to their **other** kids. **_

_**As for Roman's siblings, (Marie, Harry, Charlie, Lily, Evie, and Ruby in my story) they don't think of Roman as this conceited little git-at first. He's their annoying brother. Yeah, in public places everyone cares for Roman and not the 6 other Potter kids, but do they hate him for it? NO! Do the despise him? NO! Do they wish him dead or gone or something of the sort? NO, NO, NO! He's annoying, arrogant, yes. They are jealous of him sometimes, yes. They frequently wish people would notice them, yes. But this idea that Harry would like to stab his brother (yes, I have actually read a fanfiction in which Harry dreams of stabbing his twin brother.) is way off balance. These are **children** we're talking about. Not cold-blooded killers, not terrorists. **Children**. Children are naturally jealous creatures. Remember when you were a kid and Joey had some new, flashy toy and you wanted it? Did you hate Joey for having that toy? Did you wish he'd go away so you could have the toy? Wish he'd never been born? In most cases, no. You sat there and thought 'I wish I had Joey's toy. I wish Joey would give me his toy.' Rarely would this escalate beyond pushing or arguing or stealing. Marie and Harry and the others are JEALOUS, not hateful. That's uncharacteristic of any child, unless we were writing about a mentally unstable family. (This is not a jibe at mentally unstable people, merely a fact.) There are rarely going to be scenes in this story (if ever) in which Marie and Harry or the others cluster in one room to discuss how to 'kindly repay their brother for being a -hole'. Yes, they may play a few humbling pranks on him, but not this idea of 'let's gather 'round the campfire to talk about how much we hate that moron, our brother, and how to get back at him'. **_

_**Now that you are all mad at me, I have finished my explanation/rant and cheerfully say: On with the story!**_

_****_

He was a tall, thin figure-old but firm looking. His white beard was neatly tucked into his belt, which was wrapped around a pencil-thin figure. Aqua robes, which somehow look both old and very modern, billow around him in the light November breeze. There's a quiet click-clack of nice, matching boots hitting sopping wet, muddy concrete road. Other than this and the occasional burst of noise from a Muggle telly or an owl, the street was quiet. Devoid of all life-par one.

Albus Dumbledore, for this was the man in the aqua robes' name, stopped outside a simple white-picket gate. He gazed sadly up at the demolished house looming over him. Most of the left-hand wing of the second floor seemed to have caved in on itself. That was, while very worrying in itself, not his biggest concern. It was more the fact that whoever had caused that explosion had to be able to see the house. This should not be possible however. The only people who even knew the house was there was Lily and James Potter, James mother Dorea, Sirius Black, and Albus Dumbledore. At least, Dumbledore thought Sirius was the Secret Keeper.

His mind spun wildly, thinking of all the different reasons why the house was now visible for anyone to see. He was such a genius that some of the idea floating around his ideas that would have never occurred to anyone else, even if they'd sat there just thinking for three or four years straight. And still, he could see no logical reason why Dorea Potter would reveal her son and daughter-in-law to the Dark Lord. Albus knew he hadn't, so that left one very hard, very ludicrous option. Sirius Black, who was not only James' best friend, but the Potter's Secret Keeper had joined the Dark Side and revealed the Potters' location.

He sighed, wiping away thoughts of old students, and opened the simple, little gate. His boots lightly crushed overgrown grass. It appeared that the Potters hadn't cut their yard since they'd moved to Godric's Hallow.

The front door of the house was wide open, hanging off it's hinges. He stepped cautiously inside, coughing from the dust. The front room was the living room, a faded green chair overturned and blocks in a fallen tower. Scuff marks led him all the way upstairs, to the landing of the second floor. Several photographs laid scattered on the floor. He carefully steps over one of a younger Lily and James at their graduation, with a long crack over James face.

The nursery is dusty and dirty, and every time he took a step, more would puff up into his face and eyes. He coughed lightly, kicking at a small pile of collected dirt that merely danced in the air for a few seconds before settling back down around his feet. Part of the left wall, the one facing away from the door, had fallen in, coating everything in wood and dirt, dust and nails. There were two dim shapes under the wall-part, but he couldn't quite make it out.

"Help!" cried a tiny voice, tottling over to him. Albus looked down to see a little two or three year old girl, tugging at his robes. She had bright red hair and soft brown eyes. "Hawwy and Romey stuck under crib. Bad man made big noises and babies stuck. Help?"

Albus nodded, drawing out his wand and pointing it at the rubble, murmuring something to himself. The wood moved out of the way, magically stacking themselves up in straight, even piles. The dust peeled away, floating off in the crisp October night air. Under all the wreckage lay two crumpled cribs, which he quickly Banished off with the other wood.

Huddled there, little arms wrapped around each other, were two dark haired boys, one bawling, the other making sniffling noises. The sobbing one looked up at Dumbledore and he fell silent, jaw clicking together, a look of childish awe on his face. Clearly, the boys knew they were in the presence of great power, even if they were only fifteen months old.

"Oh," murmured the other, then looked away, wiping at his nose. His twin shuddered and, realizing that Dumbledore was not here to hurt him, began sobbing again, rubbing at his hazel eyes with tiny fists.

"And what is it you're trying to tell me?" Dumbledore asked the sobbing one. "Are you trying to say something? Speak up, then. Tell me, who did this?" he swept his arm at the dirty mess around them. "And which one of you stopped it? Three children. A little girl, who looks ok, and two crying, bleeding little boys." Dumbledore leaned in to look at one boy's V-shaped cut, peering at it carefully. "Interesting. V. Voldemort? Are you the one we've been looking for, Mr. Potter?" His twin certainly didn't look like much, sitting with his hands clutched over his ears.

"No!" screeched the twin. "Stop! Stop! Mummee!"

"Hush, little one," demanded Dumbledore, not unkindly. "I can't think. You must stop crying." He turned back to the hazel eyed boy, still curious. "Yes, Mr. Potter. I believe we can expect great things from you. The Boy-Who-Lived. How lucky we are." He nodded to the children, or possibly to himself, smiling grimly.

_****_

The party was in full swing, plenty of drunk, cheery people, screaming and dancing. Lily was perched precariously on a couch in the living room, trying to ignore one very wasted stranger who had tried to kiss her three times already. She glanced around nervously for James, looking for his Luke Skywalker costume. (They had seen the first two movies together and James had fallen in love with the Jedi.) She tugged at her long red hair, which was done up in a large, thick braid. She was dressed up as a ginger-haired Rapunzel, a soft blue dress down to her ankles and a sparkly little tiara entangled in her hair.

"C'mon, sweets. Le'ss party..." he slurred, making a grab at her breasts. She tugged herself off the couch, glaring at him.

"You, sir, are disgusting." She stomped off, now determined to find her husband and leave. She climbed upstairs, clambering over mumbling drunks and half-unconscious couples, entwined together in their costumes. She made a face at one such couple, the man who was pulling his female counterpart's Wonder Woman suit off.

"James?" she whispered, glancing around the alcohol/vomit filled hallway. '

Emmeline is going to be really mad when she sees this tomorrow.' Lily thought, stepping into one of the rooms. The lights were off, but a deep male voice cut through the room.

"Get out, would'ja?" he growled. "I'm busy! You can be with me later, sweety." She nodded and shut the door, then turned to continue hunting down her husband.

He was sitting at Marlene's kitchen table when Lily finally located him, laughing and playing Wizard's Snap with Sirius. The two dark haired men were grinning and taking swigs out of their Butter Beers.

"Where's Remy and Peter?" she asked, settling on James' lap, ignoring Sirius' mocking gags.

"Moony doesn't do parties like this and Petes said his 'mum was sick again' or something." Sirius smirked and made finger quotes.

"Strange, he's always seeing his mum, isn't he?" asked James, handing Lily a card to place on their card castle.

"Yeah, it is weird. Bet he really has a girlfriend and he doesn't want to admit it." laughed Sirius.

James, who had taking a sip of beer, choked and began coughing. Lily lightly pounded him on the back, much to Sirius' amusement.

"You ok, there, Prongsies?" Sirius joked, raising a mocking eyebrow.

"Stuff it, Black. You're so full of crap. Petes with a _girlfriend_? Are you nutters?"

"Now, come on," chided Lily softly, "Petey can have a girlfriend if he wants, can't he?"

"Yeah, but Wormtail? Seriously?" chortled James in disbelief.

"Hey, I'm Sirius!" cried Sirius, earning him two solid punches from Mr. and Mrs. Potter. "Ow!"

"You two are so-" she stopped talking, turning to look at the owl now sitting in the window, blinking straight at her. The grey, feathery creature hooted softly, repositioning the letter in it's mouth.

"What are we, then, Lily, I didn't hear." asked Sirius, smirking at her. "Hey, where are you going? Evans?" She had gotten up, moving as if in slow motion towards the owl. "Prongs, your wife is gone mad. What's she doing?"

"Hush!" Lily hissed, taking the letter softly from the bird. "This letter's addressed to James and I."

"Really?" asked James, coming to look over her shoulder.

**Dear James and Lily, **

**I speak in the most hurried of tones as I write this. It is a grave, yet gayest of moods that I send this letter to you. **

**I am here at your home, in your childrens' bedroom. I am being watched by your daughter, Marie, as she comforts her brothers. Your mother, James, lies on the ground, unmoving. She has been dead since before I arrived. **

**Our worst fears have come to pass. Voldemort came tonight, to kill your children. Roman has a V-shaped scar up on his forehead. _V _I assume for _Voldemort. _I believe Roman is the one we were looking for-the one who would defeat Voldemort. Harry, it must be noted, has a lightning bolt shaped scar, possibly from a nail or a bit of wood. **

**The safe house here in Godric's Hollow has been destroyed. I would suggest moving as soon as possible back to the Potter Manor. James, you may read that sentence again in bemusement. I am deeply sorrowed to tell you that your children did not escape freely. Dorea Potter is dead. **

**I implore that you trust no one. Do not show this to anyone you do not trust. Do not tell Sirius Black. The Ministry of Magic will be coming for him. He is a Death Eater, working for Voldemort. He sold you over to Voldemort. I repeat, do not trust Sirius Black.**

**My greatest condolences,**

**Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, leader of the Order of the Phoenix **

"Oh my god," whispered Lily, collapsing to the floor, sobbing.

_****_

_**Ok, before I say a few things, I need to say a few things. Alright, here we go. This is not a Abused!Harry story, not really. This hardly qualifies as Neglected!Harry. It's a Wrong Boy-Who-Lived! Harry, and it doesn't really go beyond that, in the beginning. Why do we love to see Harry abused? (Lissy says b/c it's fun. I'd like to see how she likes being constantly abused in fanfiction). Second, have we really reached the point in which we can not spell-check or Google character names? Siriusly? And, Issa, Dumbledore **is **spelled this way. Go look it up. On to the **real **author's note. Don't you just hate me? **_

_**(1 Marie speaks the way she does b/c she's almost 3. She's coming out of baby-talk, but she's not completely out of it yet **_

_**(2 I sent this over to Turtle as a kind of pick-me-up, which was ironic b/c it's a chapter talking about Dorea dying and the Potter kids and other not pick-me-up things. Anyway, she emails me back with the question: /Why Roman?/**_

_**That froze me. I was curious why she had asked. So I emailed her back. Why do you want to know?**_

_**/Well, I just thought it was an interesting name. I was curious where you came up with it./**_

_**Oh. Um...I was going to explain that at some point, wasn't I? At least I hope I was. So, um, I guess I might as well explain it right now. Before we get too far into the story. Well, actually I could explain all the other kids names here, too, couldn't I? **_

_**Marie/Morry Lilian: Ok, so Lily doesn't have a given middle name, right? (Frantically checks Wiki page) But, for some reason, a lot of us like to pin her with the middle name of Marie. I am one of those people. It's cute, it fits. In my AU, it's also Lily's grandmother's name. Her grandmother died when Lily was 11, a few months before she received her Hogwarts letter. (assuming everyone gets them at the same time, relatively, not on their own respective 11th birthday)She was rather close to her grandmother. So, when she gives birth to her first girl, who has the same red hair as herself, her father, her grandmother, she names the baby Marie.**_

_**Roman Romulus: Roman Romulus. It's a Roman name (um, obvious much? I'm smacking myself now) It's a strong, independent name-to me. Roman is a strong, independent person. And yet, like Rome, he has weaknesses, flaws, that are hidden behind the obvious perfections. Romulus comes from the idea that Romulus is the supposed 'founder' of Rome. Also, I think James would leave 'Remus' for, well, Remus and his kids. So, why didn't I name Roman James Jr? Well, others have done that-and kudos to you. But, I must point out, Harry's middle name is James. I definitely didn't change that fact. Wouldn't it be kind of weird for a name to be the first for one kid, but the middle on another? Also, kind of confusing? Ah hah! you say Marie Lilian and Lily Dorea have the same name. Actually, they don't. One is Marie **Lilian** the other **Lily Dorea**. Not that big of a difference, but Marie's middle name isn't Lily and Lily's name isn't short fort Lilian. It's just Lilian. **_

_**Charlus Sirius:Well, it's James' dad's name (in my universe) I liked it and I imagined James feeling close to his dad. Yeah, that's really it. The reason his middle name is Sirius is b/c Sirius kept wheedling them into naming the baby after him. Well, it's the middle name, isn't it? That incident might appear in a later chapter. **_

_**Lily Dorea: She's named after her mother and her paternal grandmother, the first girl born after her grandmother's death. That;s my explanation.**_

_**Evelyn Marlene: Alright, in Lana's AU, Evelyn is Lily's mother, who died a few short months before Evelyn the 2nd's birth. Marlene for Lily's friend, Marlene McKinnon, who was brutally murdered along with the rest of her family. **_

_**Ruby Alice: Ruby is a kind of cutesy name. She's not named for anyone in particular. She's ten years Morry's junior, so she was kind of an unexpected surprise for the Potter clan. So, Lily gives her one of those little cutesy names that was somewhat (not really) popular in the times. I mean, I'm assuming it is. I know a cousin, a second cousin, (no relation between the 1st and 2nd) a friend's mom, another friend's older sister, an older friend, and a cousin's friend all named Ruby, born in the late 1980s/early 1990s. Alice is, of course, after Alice Longbottom, Lily's other friend. In Lana's AU, Alice survives and has her own child named Alice. **_

_**Yep, it's official. The Author's Notes are officially longer than the story itself. I hate myself. Stupid really long, drawn-out explanations. **_

_**You don't **need **to review, if you don't want to. I won't pressure you into it. I'd like it, but I'm not campaigning for it or holding the next chapter until I get x reviews. That's nuts. I post when I post, no sooner, no later. You can't change my mind by reviewing or anything. I'm simply saying **I'd like it. _


	3. Everyone loves a Death Eater, right?

_**(Being the nice person I am (hah), I have decided to give you an Easter present. This chapter is early and I don't get in trouble, b/c Lissy is posting it. So hah, loopholes) **_

_**A/N: Alright, I'll try not to make really long author's notes anymore. Not unless it's really important.**_

_**Ok, this next scene is sort of a short jump into the future. It might confuse some people b/c in chap. 1, I mention Alice and Frank. Frank and Alice. That will be in this chapter. This first scene is a short, somewhat unconnected scene. It doesn't take place at any particular time (well, I made it a certain time, but it could happen at any point in the Evan sisters' relationship), though it is very important to the story. Also, though Petunia is mentioned as "around 2 years Lily's senior" I'm making her about 3 years older. Not that big of a difference, right? Also, an OC that may appear from time to time is James' older sister, Ethlyn Adara (who is 15 years James' senior)(don't question it. I frequently add OCs). But, she's a rare one in the beginning. Also, this first scene is not meant to make you feel sorry for the Dursley's, more so as to understand where Petunia and Lily's relationship continue on it's rocky course. B/c honestly, who would **want **to be a Dursley fan, unless it's a kind, Christmas-card Dudley from the future? **_

_****_

She had heard her sister had three children already and a fourth on the way. Four kids and not even twenty-two. Here was Petunia, twenty-four going on twenty-five. And what did she have to show for it? A whale of a husband and one child. No university education, no job, no future other than to stay home and watch Dudley all day until he was old enough for school.

Don't get Petunia wrong, she loved her precious, perfect little Duddy-kins, but she had always wanted another child. Preferably a girl. She had almost had one, too.

A joyous moment, finding out about the second child in early February of that year. Carrying it for four months until the _incident _as it would later be called. A dead child, inside her, disappearing. And the nurse, sad-faced, a practised look, she suspected. Who cared to tell of a dead baby?

"What do you mean, no more?" she had demanded in shock. The idea rattled around in her head, unacceptable. She couldn't be infertile. That wasn't right, wasn't fair. Her sister could still had children. Could still rub it in her face.

But Vernon had taken it in stride, almost a sort of glee at no more kids. That had almost been worse than losing the possibilities of future children. Knowing your husband hadn't wanted the child in the first place.

"We already have Dudley, what more do we really need? Ours is a perfect family. Unlike your freaky sister and her freaky little family. What? I suppose they breed like dogs, six at a time?" She pretended to laugh at the joke, but turned away so he didn't see her wipe away tears.

And then, her sister, sending her a letter in that freaky magicky way, with a flying owl, to inform her of a fourth child.

"..._It's a boy, Tuney, our third boy. We do hope you will come and visit. I miss you terribly. Please, Tuney, come see the children? They need to know that they have an Aunt..."_

She hated her sister for being able to have kids. For being able to continue on having children. Petunia had thrown the letter in the trash, ignoring her sisters pleas for visits and praise of her children's latest accomplishments.

After all, if Dudley hadn't done it himself, it wasn't worth reading or discussing.

_****_

Alice whistled as she pulled the roast out of the oven, peering at it, and then sticking it back in, deciding it wasn't "golden brown" enough like her recipe book said. Though why a roast would be "golden brown" she didn't know. Honestly, Alice knew very little about cooking and this was actually a third attempt to make dinner for her husband to impress him. She had been raised a Pureblood, with a house-elf and knew little of cooking, except for what she had learned from her mother-in-law.

She pushed back the long, light brown curls from her forehead, wishing she had remembered to tie it back. Her hair usually got very curly when it was cold, an odd dilemma that ran in her family. It was a humorous thing, something that made Frank jokingly threaten to freeze the house just to see her hair go all curly.

Her bright blue eyes were carefully watching the roast as she handed her mewling son a cup of sweet milk. He was just over fifteen months old, chubby and giggly. The little boy, Neville, rarely had been out of the house since his birth, at the orders of Dumbledore, who didn't want anything to happen just in case _they _were the ones chosen. The ones who's lives would be destroyed forever. Of course, that danger was now over. You-Know-Who was gone, after all. Dead.

This reminded her of her longtime friend, Lily Evans, no, Potter now. The red haired woman had two boys Neville's age, but _they _were the ones who had been attacked, not Alice. She was grateful for that, but it was a hollow sort of feeling, knowing your own safety was concluded through a friend's suffering.

"Mummy," declared her son, arms outstretched to grab onto her robes.

"Do you want something, Nevy? Do you want Mummy to pick you up? Come on, then, Nevy. Let's go upstairs and find Daddy." She tugged him out of his high chair, kissing him lightly on the nose and cradling him in his arms. The little boy cooed, then closed his eyes, as if asleep, though she knew he was just playing.

She had reached the top of the stairs when she heard a crashing sound from downstairs. A haggard looking Frank wandered out from the bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Alice?" he blinked down at his wide and son blearily. "You ok? What's going on? I heard noises."

"There's something downstairs," she whispered, clutching Neville closer to her chest.

"Downstairs?" murmured Frank, still blinking. "Be right back," he said softly, pushing Alice and Neville into the bedroom. She couldn't hear him pounding downstairs, like he usually walked, meaning he was sneaking up on whoever was in their kitchen. The Auror training they had both received in the last few years made Frank cautious and quiet, mouselike.

Alice wants to follow him, but knows it's a stupid idea.

"Mistakes like that get people killed, Longbottom!" Mad-eye Moody had growled at her. "You don't follow in as back up unless you're called in. No need to lose two."

She's decided to not move, to stay with her son, when Frank begins screaming downstairs, followed by a mad, cackling laugh.

"Frank!" she cried out, then slapped a hand over her mouth, but it's too late, and someone shuffled around downstairs.

Alice hugged her son softly, and then laid him down on the bed, hurrying down the staircase, wand in hand.

It was a pale man who stand in front of her, a nervous tick in the cheek, tongue flicking to the side of his mouth. He's sweaty and nervous, bug-eyed and twitchy. She recognized him as Bartemius Crouch Jr. who had been three years older than her at Hogwarts, a member of Ravenclaw. And apparently now drawn into the wrong crowd, despite his father's prestigous Ministry position.

It took mere seconds, him grinning madly up at her like a cheshire cat, and her wand flew up into the air, sailing towards his hand.

"Hey!" she cried, sailing at him, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist, twisting tightly. "Hey, let go! That hurts! Frank!" she yells, kicking and scratching at Crouch, but he merely smirked and held her small body away from his, dragging her into the kitchen.

Two other men, brothers, with dark hair and regal, dull fish-eyed looks, stand by the door. The taller held Frank's wand between his fingers, twirling it. His brother clutched Frank's arms, pinned tightly behind his back. The shorter brother seemed to sweat profusely, looking anxious.

But it's the woman that scared her, the only woman. Curly, sleek dark hair, heavy-lidded eyes. An intoxicated-on-power look. She had the look of a Black. And she is. _Bellatrix Black_, the murderer of her brother.

But Black is married, to one of the brother's that held onto her Frank, even. Lestrange. That was her name.

"How nice to see you, Frank. Alice." Lestrange stroked Frank's cheek, then purred her way over, patting Alice's shoulder as they stood there, bewildered and motionless. Frank's eyes darted towards her, asking _Why did you come down?_

She had no answer, no excuse for the obvious disobedience of Auror training that she has just committed.

The woman moves behind her, a wand jabbing into her neck. She wanted to punch the woman but thinks of Neville upstairs. _Don't move. Don't talk. You'll live, Neville will live, if you just don't move. _

But her body betrays her, shoulders jumping, as Lestrange poked her ribs with her wand, which is tipped with a sharp edge.

"Twitchy, aren't we, Alice? Maybe I should solve that. _Crucio!_" Lestrange all but cackled, but Frank already has his wand out, yelling _Protego! _

It's four to two, but the two are trained Aurors. The four are Death Eaters, mad, and perfectly comfortable with murder.

Spells flew back and forth, Alice dodging, weaving, casting, moving so fast, she doesn't even see Frank, though she knows he's behind her, a natural defense stance. Always covering the other's back.

When the four intruders laid unconcious, Alice turned to look at her husband, who was sweating profusely.

"I think they were aiming to kill." muttered Frank, then picked up Crouch and set him near the front door. Then, he grabbed Lestrange and did the same.

"Really, what was your first clue?" Alice snapped, sticking her wand in her back pocket. Turning to look at Frank, she saw the hurt, stung look on his face. Sighing, she leaned up to kiss him. "Sorry."

She dragged the two brothers closer to the other man's body. Three unconcious, one possibly dead. She didn't want to get near them for fear that they weren't really unconcious but faking. It had happened to Alice's friend Marlene. _Marlene was dead_.

Alice turned to look at her husband, who had quickly grabbed some Floo powder and was now bent over, mumbling to a crispy face. She couldn't tell who it was, and Frank's words flew by too fast for her to comprehend.

She felt exhausted. Shoulders slumped, she wandered up the stairs to look for Neville. The little boy was unharmed, looking peaceful and safe as he slept on their bed, apparently oblivious to the battle just fought downstairs.

She smiled down at him, pleased to see at least one happy, innocent person. It seemed like the rest of them were choosing sides, dark and light, and even small children were having their futures and their loyalties layed out for them.

"Alice?" asked Frank softly, standing in the doorway. "It's going to be ok. We'll be safe. Don't worry, I've gotten Moody. He'll be by in under ten minutes to pick _them _up."

Alice smiled and walked over, hugging him.

"I won't."

Downstairs a light ding! went off and when she walked down to the kitchen, Alice could see the roast had completely burnt.

_****_

_**You would not **believe** how long it took to write one chapter. ONE! I take a 40 day holiday and I come back with the beginnings and bits of 17 other chapters, but only ONE full chapter! **_

_**Don't ask me how Bellatrix killed Alice's non-existent brother. I just started revising this chapter (it was awful, the original, trust me) and I starting describing Bellatrix. Suddenly, there's Alice, standing in front of me, telling me that Lestrange had killed her brother. **_

_**I suppose it's crazy, but I honestly swear, Alice told me, "Tell them. Tell them she killed my brother. My Erik."**_

_**And then, looking back at my outline, I realized I had named Alice's yougner son Erik. I was slightly confused. Befuddled. I didn't recall writing his name down as Erik. It was originally meant to be Frank or after Neville's uncle or grandfather. Where did Erik, the little brother, come from? Where did Erik, the first Erik, who is dead at the hands of Bellatrix, come from? I don't know. I'll have to ask Alice. **_

_**I don't know why, but I enjoy making names for characters. Especially this story. When you make a name, it has to have **meaning**. Meaning is not the same as 'well, I like this name.'. I'm talking about it is something special to the characters. Not you, the characters. Like Roman's name. His name is kind of his parents' wishes for him to be strong. He was born first (out of the twins) and the Potters are worried that Roman will be chosen as the Boy-Who-Lived, so they want him to have a strong name. Or look at Marie, who is named after Lily's grandmother. These names are special and important. Not that Roman is better than any other name that a Fanfiction author gives to their character. That is not at all what I am saying. **_

_**Chris, Howard, Josh, Aster, etc. Cool names. Nice names. Names of people I know. Maybe they **do** have a meaning behind them in the story, but if they do, I'd like to have it explained. Otherwise, I sit there and go, why Chris? (If you use these names, I am honestly not trying to bash on you. I am curious, why did you name your characters what you did? Please, please, please tell me!) **_

_**The name James for Harry's twin. I discussed this earlier in the last chapter, but I'm dragging it back up. It's definitely a nice name. It has meaning, seeing as it's coming from James Potter, who would be James II's father. But then I sit down and ask you, so what does that make Harry's middle name? Again, I'm curious. **_

_**All I'm saying is, if you're going to put an OC in there, can I see some distinct reasoning behind their name? And the excuses of 'I liked it' or 'it's my name' don't fly with me. **_

_**Lana would like to make a future-reference apology. She may continuously repeat the exact same conversation. One, she's absent-minded, two, repition helps stick things in your brain. Cheers!**_

_**Lana is now done with her ramblings. She will be spending the night hiding in the Hole-in-the-Wall with Alther, discussing ghosthood. Adios! **_


	4. The Ministry proves it is flawed, a bit

_**So, I wanted to get away with **no **Author's Note at all, when I realised I hadn't finished the last chapters notes. Oops. You should know me by now. **_

_**Quick Note: This story, the one you hold in your lap on your computer, or in your hands on your mobile, is an AU. A rather long-winded one, but an AU nonetheless. Just in case you weren't sure or you thought I was delusional and thought this was real. So. I'm not saying you **should **review, but, um, I'd like it. Never force people into reviewing. You'll only get flames.)**_

_**This takes place about three months after the Longbottoms were attacked.(They were attacked in November, and the Ministry is cruel and slow to the accused.)**_

_**All recongizable characters, or characters EVER mentioned on Wiki, Pottermore, or anything owned by J.K., Scholastics, or Warner Bros., is not mine. Any non-recognizable names are original, unless based off a previously mentioned character within the Harry Potter novels and/or movies. **_

_**Hey, don't like blood? DO NOT read the last little section of the story (before my...Author's Note...heh...)**_

Sirius sat apprehensively in the chair, watching eyes that glare back at him, accusingly. Men and women, some old friends, so eager to accuse. To kill. To convict him forever until he rotted down to nothing in Azkaban for his crimes. What had happened to the eleven year olds who teased each other and lost points and 'forgot' their homework? When had they all grown up into adults who wanted nothing more than a scapegoat, a way out of blaming themselves for the Muggle, and Muggleborn, incidents. The deaths that appeared daily in the newspapers of friends or strangers. When had _he _grown up, old enough to be a godfather and an adult who didn't have to listen to anyone and rarely ever did? (Not that he had before, but now he didn't have to.)

He couldn't have told you just then, his thin, lanky body compressed into a tight chair with straps that encircled his arms, pinching tightly. Someone had come by earlier, when the two Aurors had strapped him to the chair, and pulled something around the back of his head and onto his neck, which seemed to burn into his skin. Whatever it was, it prevented him from looking sideways or turning around. All he could do was stare dumbly at the gloating, glaring face of the Ministry official that sneered down at him.

Sirius didn't know if James and Lily had arrived yet, his only hopes at avoiding Azkaban. If they could convince the Wizenmagot of the truth, that he wasn't, hadn't been, the Potters' Secret Keeper, _Peter was_, then he would be safe. They, the Ministry, would _have _to let him go. But he wouldn't be safe if he didn't see James, didn't see Dumbledore and Remus stand up and defend him.

_Dumbledore's the one that told the Ministry you were the Secret Keeper, _said a voice in Sirius' head, the one that liked to drag him down, despair him. _Yes, _he argued back, feeling crazy, _but Lily explained it to him, didn't she? He's on your side. He has to be. _If Dumbledore didn't believe in him, no one would.

He looked around wildly in front of him, but all he could see was plum robes and faces, twisting, craned to look at him. A young, blonde woman, most likely the Court Reporter, was bent over, hurriedly scribbling into her notepad, occasionally looking up at him or Bartemius Crouch Senior.

It was Courtroom 10, among the deepest and lowest in the bowels of the Ministry. It was the largest, by far, and the one that the Wizengamot most frequently occupied when trying accused Death Eaters. Fifty people, gathered, gawking at him like he were so much an animal, a particularly intersting exhibit.

"Mr. Black?" asked a old looking woman with strict features and tight, pale grey hair. She reminded Sirius of Professor McGonagall, but older, if that were possible. "Are you ready?"

"Um...yes?" he replied, wishing suddenly that he could wring his hands, but the straps were clamped down too hard and he was beginning to lose feeling.

"And the Court Scribe? Mister Scrift, are you ready?" she asked a scrawny fleck of a man, who nodded eagerly, waving his pen around, accidentally splashing his nose with ink.

"Hearing for Death Eater accusation, on the twenty-third of February, in the year Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Two, into offenses committed against the Wizarding Community, under the Order of the Statute of Secrecy by one Sirius Orion Black, resident of flat13B, Appletree Cottage, Piccadilly Circus, London. Interrogators :Bartemius Crouch Senior, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Professor Griselda Marchbanks, Wizengamot elder, Minister of Magic, Millicent Bagnold. Court Scribe, Arnold Angus Scrift. Accused, Sirius Orion Black." Crouch peered down at him, sneering. "Are you Sirius Orion Black, resident of flat 13B, Appletree Cottage, Piccadilly Circus, London?"

"Yes, I am, but-"

"Very well, charges. The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, joined the ranks of the Dark Lord noted at 'Lord Voldemort', hereby known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as a follower, noted as a 'Death Eater'. He assaulted and murdered several Muggles between the years of Nineteen Hundred and Seventy-Nine a to Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-One. He betrayed James Charlus Potter and his wife, Lilian Marie Potter nee Evans, residents of a disclosed location, to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on the evening of October Thirty-First, in the year Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-One. Do you, the defendant, comply to the above charges as the base for your trial?"

"Yes, but-"

"Knowing the consequences should you be found guilty?"

"Of course-"

"Then we proceed. Do you have any witnesses, Mr. Black?"

"Not yet, but-"

"If the accused has no witnesses, we move on to his testimony. Mr. Black?"

"I..I swear, if you just let James talk, just for five minutes, he'll explain! I wasn't the Potters' Secret Keeper. I mean, I was, but then I wasn't."

"What do you mean by that, Mr. Black?"  
"I mean James and Lily switched, a few weeks before the attack on their house. They switched to Peter Pettigrew, another friend. We trusted him, you know-"

"And no one was informed of this switch? Not even Albus Dumbledore?"

"No. It was meant to be a secret. No one could know. Peter...we didn't know. We didn't know he was a Death Eater, but we trusted him. Ask James!"

"Can you prove this...this accusation of Mr. Pettigrew being a Death Eater? Of your switch with Mr. Pettigrew?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying! If you just ask James-"

"The accused can not prove his staement, the statement is pocketed. Anything else, Mr. Black?"

"No, not unless you call James in and-"

"If the accused has nothing else to say, we will now vote upon his verdict-" began Madam Marchbanks.

"Defendant for the accused, James Charlus Potter," called one of the Aurors hovering behind him. He sounded bemused and thrown off.

Madam Marchbanks blinked at the Auror. "Ah, Mr. Potter. You're late."

Sirius then heard the most wonderful sound in the world-James' voice.

"Yeah, uh, sorry. Got held up. But I'm hear now. Defendant for the accused or whatever. James. _Potter._ Uh, yeah. Me."

"Very well. The chair recognises Mr. James Charlus Potter. Unfortunately, the defendant has arrived too late. We were just about to state Mr. Black's sentence." sneered Crouch as James moved behind Sirius, touching the man's shoulder briefly, before conjuring a chair.

"Really? Without a proper defense? Seems odd."

"You were late, Mr. Potter. We moved on."

"I'm here now, aren't I? Ready to defend, Mr. Crouch."

Crouch sighed and breathed heavily through his nose, peering angrily down at the two young men like he was considering boiling them alive.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. Defend away, if you think it will do any good."

"Alright," said James cheerfully, winking at Sirius before standing up and smiling at the Wizengamot, blocking Sirius with his own body. "Me and Lils, my wife, Lily, I mean, we had Sirius here as our Secret Keeper-originally. In the beginning, I mean. Only for two months, though. Two months-at most. Then, in the second week, or the first? Anyway, we switched to Peter. Pettigrew. Yeah. He was our Secret Keeper when Voldemort-" here there was a flinch. "oh come on!-attacked and killed my mum. Peter was. Pettigrew." he sounded very flustered, talking exceedingly fast.

Crouch leaned forward, glaring down at James.

"How do you not know you were not under the influence of the Imperius Curse by Mr. Black? That you aren't? He could have made you think that. Death Eaters are tricky like that."

"Sirius? A Death Eater? Really? Sirius hates Death Eaters! Don't you, Sirius? Yeah, see? I mean, not going to happen. But, anyway, if you don't believe me, you can check me under Veritaserum. I'm cool with it. So, um. Yeah, that's my defense."

Crouch got a very nasty grin on his face, as if he were very much enjoying this. "Is that all, Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah. I mean, um, yes sir. Yes sir." James nodded and then conjured a chair, settling next to Sirius, out of his view.

Crouch nodded and turned away as the entire Wizengamot began whispering among itself.

"You okay, Siri? You look pale," murmured James, wringing his hands.

"Yeah, I'm good. Nervous is all. They'll kill me."

"Nah. They won't. They'll believe me. They'll question me under Veritaserum and they'll believe me."

Sometimes, Sirius hated that James was too confident, too trusting.

"Very well. If there is nothing else to say from _anyone-_" and here everyone glanced around eagerly to look for another hidden witness "if there is no one else, we, the Wizengamot have agreed to question James Potter under Veritaserum." He nodded at an Auror behind the two men and then turned away from them to murmur quietly to the elderly woman next to him.

James was feeling very queasy and his palms were sweaty. He usually wasn't this nervous except for during Quidditch games or when he had screwed up proposing to Lily.

The Auror who had led him away into a side room was gone, leaving him alone. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself, settled uncomfortably in a arch -backed chair.

Just then, a young looking man, probably no more than a few years James himself, walked in, smiling nervously at him. He wore bright white robes and wrung his hands, and appeared to be sweating profusely.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. N-nice to see you, a-again. R-remember m-me? W-we, uh, I was a f-few years ahead of you. H-Hufflepuff? I'm B-Brent."

James honestly didn't remember the the man, but he nodded anyway, still watching him carefully.

"Um. Y-yeah. Well, I-I'm supposed to i-inject you. W-with the Veritaserum, I m-mean. Y-yeah." He nods, blinking nervously. Then, he nodded to himself, pulling a small bottle of clear liquid. He handed it to James and flinched, going back to wringing his hands. "A-are you g-good? D-don't need anything, r-right? Ok. I'm g-going to l-leave. B-bye now." He scurried out, slamming the door behind him.

Bemused, James shrugged and swallowed the potion.

They had, thankfully, taken the neck brace off, but left the cuffs so that Sirius couldn't move. He didn't blame them-_if _he could move his hands, he'd probably grab his wand and curse every maroon-robed person he saw.

The door to the courtroom opened behind him and the two Auror goons from before dragged James between them to his chair. He looked disconnected, like he was drunk. Sirius shot him a nervous look, glad Lily hadn't come with the kids.

"Now, Mr. Potter, can you tell me who was your Secret Keeper on Halloween of 1981?" asked Crouch, leaning forward, leering down at them. He clearly expected James to say Sirius' name.

"Peter Pettigrew was our-"

"NO! THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE!"

"Secret Keeper," James whispered, still looking blank-eyed. "Peter Pettigrew was our Secret Keeper."

Several heads turned to blink at the profusely sweating Crouch. He seemed to realise what he'd just done and collapsed in his seat. He nodded to Marchbanks, who stood up, looking around.

"All in favor of releasing the accused free of all charges?" Almost all the hands, including Marchbanks own, lifted. "Those in favor of a lifetimes sentence in Azkaban?" Seven hands, all scowling. "Very well, free of all charges! You may go." She banged a gavel and then, as if she had just announced it was tea time, turned away, ignoring them.

Sirius blinked, glancing around, but no one would look at him. The Aurors who had brought he and James in suddenly seemed much friendlier (and more intelligent) as they nicely lead James away for an antidote.

He shivered, looked back at the now chatting Wizengamot members then dashed off, out the door before anyone could call him back. Outside, in the hallway, a nervous looking (and very pregnant) Lily sits on a bench with Remus. When he walks out, they both looked up, eagerly staring.

"Cleared. Of all charges." He gives a weak grin and collapses on the bench next to them. Lily grinned and made an odd squealing noise. The two men blinked at her, then began laughing. Everything seems funnier when you've just been set free, after all.

A few days later, in a quiet little corner, somewhere in the general area of the United Kingdom, a chubby, short little blonde man scurried out of his house. He was young, early twenties at most, but worry and panic and bad genetics had made him lose scraps of hair pre-maturely. Flinching, he reached up to tug a scrap of loose hair from his hair, blinking at it. He nodded to himself, to no one, then set off down the road, not looking back.

He stopped after a few minutes, panting. He had never been in the best of shape to begin with. He looked around, and having found (or not found) what he was looking for (or hadn't been looking for) he reached into his pocket and tugged out a pocket knife. Scratched into the handle was the word '_Wormtail'. _Regardless of Wormtail, the man held his right hand out, taking the knife in his left. He figured if he had to, one might as well keep their wand hand intact.

For anyone listening, their would have been a shrill scream, unfitting for the chubby little man standing in the middle of the road. Gasping, he drops the pocket knife, scrabbling for a spare hanky in his pocket. Wrapping it around what had once been his fourth finger, (the one next to his pinkie) he avoided looking at the quickly pooling dark red collecting across the once-clean hanky. The man had never been one for adventure or messy stuff. He liked to sit back, watch, allow others to get dirty. Sometimes, he disgusted himself.

The pain shooting through his hand would eventually end. What he had done, to himself and his friends, would never go away. At least no one had died. Well, no one _important_, anyway.

He started off down the road again, running into a ditch every time a car flew by. Eventually, he would reach a small, dirty shack where a nice-faced woman would clean him up and hide his wand for him. Then, after he felt better, he would transform. Find a nice Wizarding family so he could still hear news, in case his Master ever returned. _When _he returned.

But for now, he wandered down a dusty Muggle road, several days journey away from a pretty woman and even farther from his new home with screaming children and a finger always poking at him to _do something, Scabbers! You're so boring!_

For now, he was laden with guilt, hand throbbing as the blood continued to leak out, soaking his hanky until he dropped it on the ground and began tearing at his pants for a bandage.

For now, he was Peter Pettigrew and he was completely alone.

_**So, some of the ideas or sentences in this seem like forced humour. That's how I picture Sirius. He is a funny person who sees everything in his own amusing little corner, but at this point, he's slightly thrown off and so he makes jokes to himself to make light of the situation. Plus, James is nervous and still freaking out over his mother's death. Plus, the attack on the Longbottoms has shaken him.**_

_**Anyway, Crouch kind of flipped out b/c he is supposed to be trying his son in a week. It's stressing him out and he already naturally sees Death Eaters everywhere. He hates being proven wrong. If he hadn't been so embarrassed by his outbursts, I believe the interrogation would have continued. (Yes, I DO believe in my characters. No...I'm not crazy...ahem...)**_

_**I(sorry) have a lot of 'prologue' before the actual story. In Lana land, Lana spends too much time explaining. See, she notices that a lot of people, when they write stories like this, end up with a twenty chapter story (a good story, too!) that starts with Chapter 1: Harry & Twin is a few months to about 4 or 5 years old to Chapter 2: Harry & Twin are suddenly 9-16 years old. Lana begins wondering, what happened in that time chunk? So, b/c Lana is crazy and likes dragging stories on and adding way too much, she has decided the first chunk of the book is the 'Prologue' of sorts. Unnecessary, other than the 1st Chapter, unless you're like Lana. Kind of late, yeah, but FYI, FROM HERE UNTIL ABOUT CHAPTER 2-9 IS NOT NECASSARY TO READ. **_

_**All these chapters are 1700-2500 hundred words long so far. Scary long for me. I deal with 600-1500 word oneshots. Of course, long Author Note's help, too, don't they? Heh heh. You hate me right now, don't you?**_

_**SEE I CAN SHORTEN MY AUTHOR'S NOTES! (I'm working on it!)**_


	5. Magic Plus Dursleys Equal Disaster

_**Ok, not an excuse in any way, but it is very tiring to be writing three different stories at once, along with Algebra homework, and band music and my 8th grade novel project.**_

_**I'm dying...dying...dying...dying...dying...dying...dying...dying...Ok, not really, but I do have a massive head ache and all my writing seems kind of crappy right now. Yo tengo duele de cabeza...aye! (I'm taking a break to throw up...again)Enjoy! **_

_**( December 23, 1984)**_

James had never been a big fan of his in-laws, but Lily had wanted to see her sister at least once, "just one Christmas". In hindsight, probably not a good idea. Especially since James knew little about the Muggle World and Lily's family didn't really..._like _magic, all that much.

Lily's older sister, Petunia, stood at the doorway of her perfect looking house with it's perfect looking yard, surrounded by dozens of other perfect looking houses. The dirty-blonde woman's arms were crossed, a deep scowl on her face. She stood, almost protectively in front of something, though all James could see was a chubby hand, which was actually connected to an even chubbier blonde boy. She had been peeking out the window for the past three hours, half-expecting her sister to show up on the back of a dragon with all twenty of her children along. Well, okay she only had four or five, but it might as well be twenty compared to the one Petunia had. (Not counting dead children.)

Lily, pretending to not notice Petunia's taut smile, grinned up at her sister, glaring at her from the doorstep, as she pulled Littlie, who was now seven months old, out of the car, still strapped into her carrier. James sighed, collecting Charlus (around two years, eight months) from his seat. Marie, Harry, and Roman all jumped from their own seats, Marie and Harry taking each others hands.

"I don't like it here," muttered Roman furiously, glancing around, taking in the sight of Muggles going about their daily business. For the most part, all the Potter children had been tucked inside, hidden from the world so that no one (else) could get hurt. Occassionally, Roman was brought out by popular demand to pose for pictures, so that the Wizarding Community could be confident in their saviour.. "It's weird. There's too many Muggles."

"Roman, it's ok. You'll love your Aunt Petunia." said Lily, most likely faking enthusiasm. James harrumphed, thinking about how Lily and Petunia could barely tolerate each other as sisters.

"I still don't like it here."

"Maybe if you act like a brat, we'll get to leave sooner," muttered Marie into her little brother's ear. The four year old grinned briefly, before linking arms with Harry. The two boys were nearly identical excusing the eyes and seperate scar shapes. They were even dressed alike and spoke in the same high-pitched voice, though Roman was undoubtly the louder of the two.

"Hello, Lily," said Petunia curtly, stonily kissing her sister on the cheek. There was no smile, no look of affection. Anyone watching these two would have thought they hated each other. (Which they _did_, but still, Petunia didn't think anyone needed to know how_ much_.)

"Tuney. It's nice to see you, again. And this must be...Dudley?" Lily asked, looking down on the short, chubby four year old. The little blonde boy bared his teeth at her and scuttled behind his mother protectively.

"Yes. My little angel. He's very well-behaved. Very _normal._" Petunia replied, emphasising normal. 'Look at my child. He is like me. "Perfect" in every way. You're children are different. They don't conform to my normality. The freaks. How dare you bring them here.' This was what Petunia thought of her own nieces and nephews. You can understand, then, why the visit ended the way it did.

"Well, this is Marie, Roman, Harry, Charlus, and Lily. We call her Littlie," murmured Lily, offering the little Lily-copy to Petunia, who wrinkled her nose unencouragingly.

"Why don't you come inside, instead of wandering around where the neighbours can see you?" said Petunia, moving aside so that the Potters could come in.

They settled in the living room and Petunia opened a back door for the children to run around in the yard. Just then, a large blonde man came out of one of the bedrooms and stopped, eyes widening as he blinked stupidly at them.

James stepped forward to shake his hand, but the blonde man sneered at it and settled in a chair far away from James. James, looking puzzled, shrugged and sat down.

Lily remained seated with Littlie, seeming to suddenly realise her sister was trying to hide their relationship. Petunia wanted to deny, even to her husband, that the two women were related.

As the adults began talking, Marie led the smaller children outside to play or swing.

Outside, there seemed to be a lot to do, with a fancy-looking green house and a small swing set and a sand box. And trees, plenty of trees. One thing the Potter children loved to do was climb trees. Unfortunately, it had been too hot this year for snow and the ground was really only piles of melted mush and dirt.

"My daddy says you guys are weirdo freaks." said Dudley, peering at them intently, like he could _see _the weirdness of his cousins.

Harry and Roman looked at each other while Charlie, who didn't or couldn't care, tottled off to play with some dirt. Marie, trying to be nice, smiled at the chubby boy.

"Me and Harry and Romey and Charlie and Littlie are all normal. We are as normal as you. We just can do magic." she explained. Roman nodded from behind her and Harry gave Dudley a weak smile.

"Yeah, but _Daddy _says you guys are weird, so that must mean you are. My daddy is never wrong. You guys are weird freaks and I'm not playing with you. You can't use my stuff." Here, he looked at Charlie, who was making a small hill out of dirt and sticks. "HEY! Get out! That's my dirt!"

"It is _not _your dirt," said Roman, glaring at Dudley. His family wasn't freaky! How dare that boy! "Dirt is for everyone. You don't own it."

"It's at _my _house," replied Dudley smugly, trying to cross his fat little arms. "It's my house and it's my dirt. Make him _leave! _Or I'll tell Mummy that you pushed me."

Roman and Marie looked at each other, frowning and merely turned away, ignoring him. Harry stood there, looking rather puzzled.

Dudley scowled, seeing that no one was listening to him. He had spent the last four years hooked on the idea that he was king and everything and anything Little Dudders wanted was his. Dudley had hardly ever spent time around other children, and the ones he did, feared him and obeyed his every demand. After all, sometimes, it's better to be feared than loved.

WHAP!

Marie and Roman turned around to see a stunned Harry gasping on the ground, his hands on his bright red cheek. He was, it seemed, too startled to even cry, merely sitting in a shocked silence, eyes so wide, Harry looked like a frog. Then, like a band-aid, suddenly ripped off a scab, the shock was torn off the Potter siblings.

Harry began sobbing, still cupping his cheek and Marie rushed forward to hug him, to console him in that way that only came from an older sister. Mainly sloppy kisses and quiet, ribbing teases.

Roman, on the other hand, stomped up to Dudley, looking straight at him. Both boys had gone red in the face from anger, breathing heavily.

"Bully!" Roman yelled, shoving Dudley. Dudley also fell over, though Roman hadn't pushed very hard. He looked very comical, waddling and wobbling all over the grass, howling like a monkey.

The door burst open and all four adults burst out, Petunia scurrying over to her "poor little baby! Oh my little Dudders, are you okay? What did those _nasty _little brats do to you?"

James snorted, coming up behind her. He glanced down at the sniveling, snotty little boy, then laughed, rolling his eyes when Petunia turned to glare at him.  
"What? Is this funny? Is it funny that your...your _children _hurt my dear baby?"

"No, it's hilarious that you treat a four year old like an infant. Or is that thing a baby whale? Sorry, can't tell the difference." James had been holding in every joke he could think of, but now that he had been given the oppurtunity, he began pouring out with them.

Lily, trying to refrain from her own smile, put her hand on his arm, giving him a warning look. "Why don't we take Dudley inside and put a Band-aid on his knee?"

Petunia nodded, lips pursed and helped scoop Dudley up, lightly swatting him inside.

Marie and Harry gathered behind their father and Lily, still holding Littlie, called out to Charlie. The Dursleys and the Potters all went inside, Dudley was Band-aided and the children were told to _behave. _Mostly, this meant _don't touch each other_. Especially Dudley. Don't touch Dudley.

"Isn't it hard to take care of five children? Especially boys? Especially such _rough _boys?" asked Petunia, her question laced with a sneer.

Lily looked up sharply from where she had been playing with Littlie. James and the Dursleys had mostly spent the last five minutes in a loud, hard silence, blinking at each other, refusing to talk.

"Oh...um, I guess. But, you know, it's worth it." Petunia nodded, then looked James up and down, as if examining him.

"Vernon here works at Grunnings. They make drills. He's _very _important at Grunnings, aren't you, dear?" purred Petunia, smirking at her husband, then at James. Vernon nodded, puffing his chest up. He looked like a very silly bird or a proud child. "What does your husband do, Lily?"

"I'm an Auror," murmured James, deciding he didn't like where this discussion was going. "I'm like a police officer or something, but for the Magical World."

"Oh, how fantastic," simpered Petunia, but it was obvious she still thought her husband's job was oh so much better.

Jus then, from the kitchen, there was the sound of multiple glass things exploding (and imploding) and then a high-pitched shrieking, as a chubby, terrified Dudley Dursley scurried out, his hands covering his rear as he took off. A small, pink, curly pig's tail poked out of the seat of his trousers.

"LOOK WHAT THEY DID TO MY KITCHEN! JUST LOOK! THIS...THIS LITTLE BRAT _RUINED _MY KTICHEN! MY BEAUTIFUL KITCHEN! AND MY BABY! HE'S CURSED MY BABY!" shrieked Petunia, jabbing a finger at Roman, who stood very quietly and very nervously in the middle of the after-math of a great explosion fo glass. All the vases, the mirror, the windows, plates, cups, glasses. Shards of it lay everywhere and the dust of completely crushed glass had settled everywhere.

"Oh...my..." began Lily.

"God..." James finished, as both parents gawked at their four year old with something between pride and amazement.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Today, for the Christmas holidays, I visited my older sister with the children and James. I don't know who started it, but somehow, the trip ended with most of the glass in my sister's house exploding and her son, Dudley, had a pink pig's tail. _

_Is it normal for a four year old to have such strong magic? Or is it because he is the Boy-Who-Lived? Has defeating Voldemort given him special powers? Also, we are worried about Harry. He seems to show little or possibly no signs of magic. I have tried to get him to do simple things like change my hair colour, but he couldn't. Is this normal?_

_Thank you,  
Lily Potter (nee Evans)_

A few weeks later, a sobbing Marie was found at the edge of the largest tree of the Potter Manor. She was clutching her arm, tears streaming down her face.

James picked her up and settled her down on the couch, wrapping a quilt around her, and ran off to get Lily. His wife was, admittedly, better at healing spells and he didn't want to hurt Morry any more than she already was.

However, when the two parents came back, she was sitting calmly on the couch, her arm very clearly _not _broken.

"Morry? I thought your arm was broken." said a very confused James, looking down at his now happy six year old.

She looked up, green eyes innocent and cheery. "Oh, yeah. But Harry heard me crying and he fixed it."

"Harry?" repeated Lily. "Your brother? Sweetheart, are you sure it wasn't Roman?" After all, except for the scars and eyes, the twins were very identical.

"No, it was Harry. He had green eyes."

_Who said things were ever going to be normal for the Potters? _

_**So, when someone decides to write a story, they research the story material. If you write a book about dogs, you study dogs. If you write a story about Harry Potter's twin who is the Boy-Who-Lived, you research OTHER stories about it. See what others say, their own opinions about how Lily and James would react, how Dumbledore would react, how random person A would react. And a lot of them seem to have manipulative-Dumbledore or a Lily who is okay with GIVING UP HER OWN CHILD or a weak-willed James. Ok...cool. A lot of them are well-written. (And this is where I tear your stories apart to show why mine is more 'realistic'. Sorry. It's what I do. Of course, mine's SO NOT fantastic. It could use a LOT of work. It's just, here's my opinion. I'm setting my dish down at the table of opinions. Nibbble on it, feast on it. At least taste it.) **_

_**Dumbledore: manipulative, but not stupid. He knows no one mother would GIVE UP HER OWN CHILD! **_

_**Lily: WOULD NOT GIVE UP HER OWN CHILD OR ABUSE IT! **_

_**James: Obviously NOT weak-willed or he would have given up on Lily a long time ago and we wouldn't be having this story. **_

_**Therefore: In Lana-land, Dumbledore is NOT pressing the idea of giving Harry up, treating him as second class or anything degrading like that.**_

_**Lily loves her children (more or less) equally and would never give ANY of her kids up. (Trust me. I'll show this later.)**_

_**James is not weak-willed and refuses to give up ANY of his children. **_

_**Also, Roman is NOT a bad kid. He is (mostly) not a bully. He is a (privileged) child put in an odd spot who reacts pyschologically fairly normally; i.e. Occasionally does things a minor celebrity would do, such as sign autographs. **_

_**Harry is not weak or somehow 'better' than his twin. He is a quieter, softer, maybe smarter twin. He loves his brother and his parents and anyone who shows love back to him. He, like Roman and everyone else, has flaws. Minor flaws, major flaws. **_


	6. Flashes through time and a Wedding

_**ANY CHARACTERS YOU RECOGNISE ARE NOT MINE. ANY 'SEMI-ORIGINAL' CHARACTERS ARE MINE AND YOU NEED MY PERMISSION TO USE THEM. THANK YOU. **_

_**Kind of a filler chapter, but there are some implied future things, so I felt it important. Did I mention I do flashbacks in this story? Want an example? Or a lot? A jumping around time chapter? Read on! **_

_(Late August, 1977)(Flashback)_

_Four boys sit absent-mindedly scattered around a home-made fire, warming up. It's unusually cold for August and they are collected in jackets and blankets. Two of the boys are dark-haired, regal faced, almost haughty. A third has sandy hair and seems irritated, as if someone has constantly been needling him. The last is a shorter, chubbier blonde boy who constantly tugs at his too small shirt, feeling uncomfortable, surrounded with his much more popular friends. Someone tells a joke and the others laugh. For a few months, they have been innocent, seventeen. A summer away from classmates and school work and war. _

_A red-haired woman stands on the back porch, a shawl gathered around her shoulders. The boys are too far away to notice her as she watches them. She sighs to herself, tightening her shawl slightly. It is chilly, and she is not young. Her son is one of the boys that she watches so carefully. Even though they are only fifty or sixty meters away, she still feels alone. Her husband is gone, her daughter had walked out the door some fourteen years ago. Her son is the only one left and even he will be gone (if just temporarily) come September 1st. And then, this would be his last year. Who knew where he would go or when he would die? She turns back to the house, shivering. _

_Back in the huddle of boys, the tallest suddenly gave the others a very intense look. _

"_I'm never going to marry," he announces, looking around at them all. "I swear right now. I will never, ever get married. I'll be a bachelor forever."_

"_You'll be a nanny for Prongs' kids!" laughs the sandy-haired boy, throwing a small pebble at his friend. It bounces off his head._

"_Hey!" shouts the other dark-haired boy, presumably 'Prongs'. "I don't want Padfoot taking care of my kids. He'd name them all after himself and probably corrupt their poor minds with his stupidness."_

"_Better to be stupid than ugly-which is the only type of kids you'll ever have, Prongs," says Padfoot, lying down on his back. _

_They are joking, ribbing each other. The boys are friends, for nearly seven years now. Except for the one incident last June, they have almost **always **been there, side by side by side by side. _

"_What about you, Wormtail? You ever gonna find a girl? Maybe Marlene? Or Dorcas? Emeline?" nudges Padfoot, then laughs. Wormtail seems to take the question seriously, contemplating. _

"_I don't know. Maybe. I mean, sure?" he mumbles, feeling awkward next to his handsome, talented, intelligent, **absolutely-going-to-get-a-girlfriend** friends. _

"_Well, when Lily says yes-" _

"_You mean **if **Lily says yes, which she won't."  
"-I'll definitely marry her. And we'll have a dozen kids and if she wants, I'll stay home and take care of them." _

_Padfoot and Wormtail begin laughing while Prongs stares off at nothing, smiling in that dreamy way that only the desperately in love have. _

_Moony shakes his head and stands to leave, ignoring his friends shouts to come back. _

"_Moony's just mad because one day he'll get married, too! I'll be the only bachelor left! I'll be handsome forever!" Behind him, peals of laughter are heard, rippling across the yard. _

_This is the Marauders in 1977. _

( November 17, _1985)(Present)_

Sirius was twisting the flowers from the closest vase, feeling nervous. He was literally forty minutes away from being married and so far, he wasn't feeling very confident. Atfer all, James, his best man, still wasn't here, his bride-to-be had insisted upon locking him out of her room and he was currently shredding the begonias.

"You have something against flowers, then, Pads?" laughed someone behind him, Remus, arms crossed. He dropped heavily into the seat next to Sirius and tugged the remaining limp petals out of Sirius' hands and dropped them in their vase.

"Sorry. It's just _nothing _is going right and I'm freaking out and I'm getting bloody _married _today, Moony! Married. Can you believe that? Me. _Married_."

"Yeah. Considering that you used to swear that you would _never ever _get married. Guess that leaves me, doesn't it?" There was an unexplained rule that Peter, who had been gone for nearly four years, was as good as dead. He was no longer a Marauder, for sure.

Sirius rolled his eyes but nodded, staring down at his shoes which were nicer than he was used to, very shiny and polished. For a second, he felt six years old again, sitting at the top of the stairs with his brother, waiting to be announced.

_( (1966)(Flashback)_

_His clothes are stiff and formal, itchy in all the worst places. He longs to tear them off and run through the parlour in little more then his boxers. His mother is somewhere downstairs, sucking up to the richer cousins and ignoring the lesser ones that had managed to sneak into the party. _

_Regulus sits beside him, much more still, sitting in the way their mother had taught them. They were waiting for Kreacher to wobble up the stairs to tell them it was time. _

_It's loud downstairs but silent upstairs. Neither boy talks to each other. There is nothing to say.)_

"Hey, Padfoot, you okay? You've gone quiet. That's abnormal." joked Remus, lightly shoving him. Sirius smiled and shook his head, trying to forget memories.

Suddenly, James rushed in the room, looking rushed, his hair tangled and his clothes uneven.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to be late, honest, Pads. It's just that Harry got into something and then Littlie and ...yeah. Sorry," he said, but it was so rushed, Sirius and Remus couldn't make out a word. Instead, they threw petal flowers at him, chasing him through the halls.

_(November 20, 1978)(Flashback)_

_Lily and James are sitting outside in their nice clothes, tucked into each others arms, smiling. She has a small bump under her dress, cleverly hidden by expert sewing. _

_Sirius is somewhere in the yard of the church, chasing Remus around and screaming. Remus had been the only one to show up with a date (Marlene McKinnon) as Peter was, naturally, being Peter and Sirius is between girlfriends. _

_Just then, one of the girls that James recongises as Lily's Muggle friend walks up to them, wearing an odd smile. _

"_Hey, Katie-kat." says Lily, smiling dopily and hugging James lightly. Katie nods her blonde head and then, in a whisper-quiet voice, asks Lily if they could talk. The two women left James on the stoop which Sirius quickly claims._

"_So, who's the hottie, again?"  
"Friend of Lil's. Katie something," James mumbles, suddenly beginning to feel the four glasses of Firewhiskey in his system. _

"_Hottie Katie. Katie S. Hottie." slurs Sirius, giggling at his own 'joke'. _

"_Whatever," James laughs back and then lurches off to throw up. _

_Four weeks later, Katie Cooper and Sirius Black began dating. It was an on-again, off-again thing for the next six years until Sirius bent down on one knee to ask her for marriage. _

_( January 4, 1979)(Flashback)_

_Lily sits on the couch, her slightly bloated feet resting on a random stool snatched from somewhere in the Potter Manor. _

_She and her friend, Katie Cooper, are sititng in a careful, awkward silence. Sirius and Katie had recently split up (at least for now) and Lily felt rather uncomfortable. _

"_So, have you decided on a name?" Katie asks, breaking the silence. _

"_Yeah, Marie." _

_Katie nods and turns back to her magazine, but seems too distracted. _

"_Is it something I've done, Lils?"_

_Lily's eyes widen, surprised. "Oh...um...no. Of course not. Sirius is just...being **Sirius**. He moves from girl to girl. He does it all the time."_

"_Yes, but not even two months? I mean, I feel like it's somehow my fault."_

"_Oh no. Not at all. Believe me, knowing Sirius, he'll come back within a month or two, begging you to come back. You and I can laugh when that happens, of course. Now, help me off this couch. I'm not as small as I used to be. Or as small as I will be in a few months."_

_Katie laughs and grabs her friend's arms, tugging her up until the unbalanced weight tipped them over onto the floor, laughing. They begin smacking each other with pillows and couch cushions. _

"_Is this a bad time?" says Sirius, standing in the door, red-faced. _

_The two girls give each other small grins and then launch at him with pillows, screaming._

(November 17, 1985) (Present)

Marie was now six and a half, a pretty little doll with dark red hair. Dressed up in a nice, flowy yellow dress, she had her hair tucked up in a Princess Leia-like design. The Potter children had recently gotten into Star Wars, watching all three movies in one go.

They were at the after-party for Uncle Sirius' wedding and Uncle Sirius and his new wife were now (clumsily) waltzing around on the dance floor. Marie thought that she looked very pretty with long, blonde hair in a bright bob and her traditional white dress had been exchanged for a pretty purple dress. Her name was Katie, a soft woman who was always giving Marie ribbons or crayons.

A pregnant Lily was laughing as she and James twirled around in a corner, tripping and crashing into tables. They weren't drunk, but a pregnant Lily made for a very two left-footed Lily, a strange idea, considering she was usually very graceful.

_(But then again, if the they were going to have kids every few year, as James would often joke, Lily might as well give up dancing altogether.)_

Marie twirled the little ribbon she had pulled off a flower vase and debated whether she should go ask someone to tie it into her hair. She had seen an older girl wearing her hair like that and decided it looked cute. Cuter, surely, than her Leia-hair, all curled around her ears. Perhaps Katie would tie it into her hair when she was done dancing.

"Hey, Morry," said Roman, handing her a piece of wedding cake, already nibbling at his own. "This stuff is good. It's chocolate. Try it." He said chocolate really long, stretched. Choc-o-late. She giggled, taking it. The Potter siblings relationship was decent, maybe a little better than most. They didn't argue (often) didn't fight (mostly) and didn't prank each other. (Alright, the last one was a total lie, but still, they weren't _harmful _pranks.)

She took a bite of cake, expecting it to be filled with mud or , she tasted actual chocolate. It _was _good and, surprisingly, not stuffed with some horrible potion. It would be just like her brothers.

"See that guy over there?" Roman asked, pointing a chocolatey finger at a tall boy with sandy-hair. He reminded her of Uncle Remus somewhat. He was obviously older than both of them, with dirty-blonde hair and was thin and tall in the same way that Uncle Remus was.

She nodded. "He looks like Uncle Remus, doesn't he?"

"That's because he is Uncle Remus' cousin. He and his sister are visiting from America." He pointed out the girl next to the boy, smaller and younger with darker brown hair. They seemed unaware of the Potter twins gawking at them as they laughed and poked at each other. They seemed comfortable, relaxed, even in the formal clothing and fancy flowers everywhere. She wondered if it was part of being from America or if they were naturally laid-back.

"He's watching you. You should go over there and kiss him." Roman muttered into her ear, laughing.  
"Shut up! He does not like me! He doesn't _know _me! We've never met! Besides, he's like _waaaaaay_ older and probably already has a girlfriend."

"He likes you! He'll dump his girlfriend _for you!_" he screamed.

"Yeah right!" she screamed back.

"Excuse me?" said a third voice and they turned around to see Uncle Remus' cousin standing right there. He had a funny look on his face, like he was trying not to laugh. "Are you Marie?"

"Um...yeah?" Roman kept ribbing her, giggling into her ear and she was trying to refrain from smacking him to look like an idiot. (Poor Marie. Six years old and already in love.)

"Remus said to come talk to you, since we're, you know, close in age and stuff. Except, I'm ten and you're only six. And I don't really _want _to talk to you, since all of you sound kinda funny."

She nodded, feeling stupid. _Of course he didn't like her._ But he was still cute. He had a weird little accent, like someone was squeezing his throat shut. His syllables were shorter and rounder, like he was talking around a balloon.

He nodded back and then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. In her ear, he whispered,

"You're cute, y'know that?" and then left, walking off like he hadn't even been there.

"Well, that was fun to watch." laughed Harry, sititng down in the chair next to Roman. "Did you like him? Do you think he is cute?"

"Ew! Gross!" she cried. Harry and Roman grinned at each other.

"Morry has a _boyfriend!_" they screamed together.

On the dance floor, Sirius nearly dropped his new wife, Katie, in shock. All the adults turned to look a them.

_And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the Marauders and kids in 1985._

(Late November 17, 1985) (Present)

Sirius and James were sitting at a park bench somewhere in a Muggle park. Sirius had reverted back to his earlier nervous state, but there were no nearby flowers, he had taken to twisting the bottom of his dress robes.

"We're going to get caught with you wearing those. I _told _you to grab some Muggle clothing." James muttered, waving a hand at his own jeans and t-shirt.

Sirius merely took his hands off his robes to start wringing them.

"Sirius, what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you so nervous?"

Sirius' face had gone ashen, his eyes widened with some fear. James had never _ever _seen his friend like this and it was slightly disturbing.

"They're still trying to prove I've done something. The Ministry," he explained, seeing James' puzzled look. "Even though Crouch is out of the Wizengamot, he's still getting his high-up friends to find new reasons to convict me."

"But that's ridiculous!" James yelled, gathering stares from various Muggle parents or joggers. "Sorry," he whispered, leaning in towards Sirius. "Why would they want to? And _what _would they have on you?"

"They still think I'm a Death Eater, that I helped Peter slip off. Which is absurd, because if I ever find that rat, I'll wring his little neck."

_(November 17, 1985) (Present)_

_He smiled to himself, unconsciously rubbing his fingers across his left arm. The mark was deeply burnt into his arm, a dark scar on his flesh, a constant reminder of what he's does and what he's left behind. But then, when one is protected by some of the strongest names in the world, who needs old friends? _

_He had been wandering around for nearly a month until he'd found them, the perfect Wizarding family. A family, a large family surrounded by Muggles and trees. They were out now, all of them, a rarity when there were so many people, and he had taken a rare oppurtunity to slip back into his human form to make sure he was still capable of changing between forms. _

_Somewhere in the world, there were two boys, one the target and the other a decoy. When his master came back, he knew, his master would come for him and they would find the boy, possibly both and kill them. With blood on their hands, he and his master would be safe to rule the world. And he, Wormtail, would be safe from everyone-James, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore. Everyone. _

_Just a little while longer. _

_**If you can catch the reference, you get your own little minor character in the story. Tell me the clue, your name and what you look like and like. :) (No, it's not Star Wars)**_

_**I was finishing up a short promo on Egpytian history & religion when I look back at my notes to go over them. They'd all translated themselves into hieroglyphics! And I'd forgotten how the websites I used to get my notes. So, I had to start all over. It was fun. **_

_**Also, I'm learning German. Guten Tag-**_hello_** good-bye-**_Auf Wiedersehen _**I love you-**_Ich liebe dich

_**Coffee-**_kaffee _**little girl-**_kleines Mädchen

_**(((Bitte lesen und überprüfen, Liebe Lana)))**_


	7. The Necessary Fight Scene

_**MISS ME? (pffff...course not) **_

_**You can tell I'm sick. I can't stop writing Fanfiction. Unfortunately, I'm not sick enough to skip school. Darn. Guess where I'm headed in the morning? Sorry if this isn't up to my usual par. **_

_(November 22, 1986)_

"_Over here, over here! Roman! Hey, Roman"_

"_Roman, look here"_

"_Here, Mr. Potter!"_

"_Over here, over here!"_

"_Look at me, please, Mr. Potter!"_

"_Smile!"_

"_How are you? Why are you here today?"_

"_Are you shopping for Christmas?"_

"_What are you buying?"_

_They all screamed out at him, pushing and shoving to get closer, cameras flashing and quills flying. Each reporter gave him a bright, cheerful grin and Roman, always happy to comply, grinned cheekily back at them. _

"_We're getting Christmas presents for my dad." he said, waving at one particularly close reporter, a tall blonde woman with framed glasses and heavy green robes. She laughed and her quill scratched down what he had said. _

_Behind him, Harry stood calmly, watching all of this, just standing. No one came to him, asked him anything. It was as if he wasn't there. _

"_What are you getting for him?" someone else yelled out. _

"_A tie!" he yelled back. They all laughed and called out more questions. "Or candy. My dad likes candy."_

"_Of course Da likes candy," Harry muttered to himself, "and so do you." He was only glum because someone, most likely Charlie, had taken his last Pumpkin Pastry. _

"_What about your brother? What is _he _getting _you_?" _

_Harry turned away, annoyed. They couldn't even see him! Or, if they did, they ignored him. Everyone was so concerned with the stupid Boy-Who-Lived._

_(January 12, 1987)_

_It wasn't the first time they had followed him home from school, but it was the first time there was no one else around. His mum had apparently forgotten him and he, irritated, had given up and decided to _walk _back to Potter Manor. _

"_Hey! Hey, Mr. Potter! Roman!" yelled someone behind him, and then a thin man with a ratty face jogged up behind him. He smelled funny, kind of like the mothballs in the attic, but Roman decided it would probably be rude to point that out. The man's photographer, a much heavier set man, huffed up, and gave Roman a crooked grin. _

"_We'd like to ask you some questions, Roman. Do you mind if we call you Roman?" asked the rat-faced man, leaning much to close to Roman. _

_Roman opened his mouth to say, _Yes, he did mind_, but the rat-faced man had already clapped a bony hand onto Roman's shoulder and directed him to a park bench. _

"_So, how are you, Roman. Feeling good? You must be, what, six now? Wow, so big! Enjoying school? IS that where you came from, your school? Where's your parents?" Everything he said was very fast and spoken with an almost bored tone, like he didn't really care. Clearly (at least to anyone older than ten years old) he was just looking for anwers, for scoop that would make the Poter family look bad. _

"_I'm fine. I gotta go, my mum wants me to head straight home. Besides," he said, getting up. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."_

_The rat-faced man grabbed him, tugging him back onto the bench, scooting until he was right next to him. The smell of mothballs was very strong. "Let's stop being strangers, then, Roman." _

"_HEY!" yelled someone behind him, and they all turned to see Mrs. Potter, Roman's mum, looking angry and annoyed. _

"_Shit," muttered the rat-faced reporter before scrambling up and running off, his fat photographer taking off after him._

(February 4, 1987)

Lily was cleaning the kitchen, immensely glad that she could _see _where she was going and what she was doing. Probably the worst part of being pregnant was that one was so _huge_. Even though it had been almost a year since Evelyn (or Evie, as they called her) had been born, Lily still marveled at being able to see her feet. When she had given birth, another woman near her had commented about how small she was.

"This must be your first child," she'd said, smiling down at the younger woman.

"My sixth, actually," Lily had replied. And, of course, Lily did _not _make new friends with her, but it was still funny to see the gaping-mouth look after she had told her about the six kids.

And now, in early February, about two weeks away from her daughter's first birthday, she was beginning to regret having _so many kids._ Sure, she loved them, but six was a lot to handle when it was just you. It was so hard scrambling from feeding Evie to checking Marie's multiplications to telling the boys to _stop climbing trees, I'm tired of fixing broken arms!_

Especially this second, cleaning the kitchen while her husband was off somewhere rounding up Death Eaters and vampires, she was really regretting it. Even though Alice and Katie had offered to stay with her, they each had their own children and she felt it was too much.

Of course, her friends being who they were, had set up camp in the Potter Manor anyway, helping keep down the mess and make sure the children in school had their work done and that the littler ones weren't tottling around in dirty diapers.

But then, when you yourself had six kids between the ages of almost a year old all the way up to eight years old, and one of your friends have a six and two year old and another friend had a ten month old, it was a very good idea to have three women taking care of nine kids.

Well, ok, no one had _died _yet. Yet.

"Hey, Lils?" Lily looked up from her stack of dirty plastic children's dishes to see Katie, her blonde hair floating in whispy strips. She stood in the doorway, holding her daughter Andromeda, with Neville and Charlie gathered around her legs.

"Yeah?" she muttered back, trying not to sound as exhausted as she truly was.

"Come with me real quick?" Katie asked, beckoning her down the hall. Lily followed, expecting to find the twins had covered the toilet seat in pudding again or something.

Katie led her to the nursery, where Evie, Littlie (Lily), Alice (the Second), and Andromeda all slept in an effort to avoid running all over the huge manor looking for a sobbing toddler. Inside, a concerned Alice was trying to soothe what appeared to be Evie.

Except that Evie was a queer shade of green and was sobbing. Her normally bright blue eyes had dulled and were ringed with little green and purple bumps that she kept scratching at. Tears streamed down her eyes and she constantly brought her tiny hands up to touch her own face, but each time, Alice would stop her.

"It just started, like, this morning, Lils. I don't understand. She keeps crying and everytime she sneezes, her nose sparks. What kind of crazy Wizarding disease is this?" explained Katie, looking at Evie wearily. Although she was okay with magic, Katie was still a little freaked out by it.

Lily shook her head, trying to block out the words. As a Muggleborn, Lily had only ever experienced Muggle diseases. She knew very little of the Wizarding diseases and what she knew was what she had learned from James or friends. She had _no _idea what this was.

"She's got Dragon Pox. It's like chicken pox mixed with small pox." explained Alice, still stroking Evie's hair and making shushing noises at the not quite year old.

"Dragon Pox?" Katie and Lily echoed, staring down at the sobbing red-head, at her greenish skin and the bumps around her eyes and mouth.

This had been Lily's worst nightmare, that something would happen and she wouldn't be able to handle it. They couldn't just drop everything and take her to St. Mungo's. There would be eight other children to do something with.  
"What are we going to do?" Lily nearly wailed, sagging against Katie, rubbing her eyes. Evie, her eyes itching, unconsciously mirrored her mother. Alice grabbed at the girl's hands, tugging them away from her face. The tot began crying even louder, shocked at the fast motions.

"She can't touch her face. She can't scratch at it. That is _not _what you want." she told Lily, then conjured a pair of gloves, slipping them over Evie's hands.

"My mother duct taped saran wrap around our hands when my brother and I got sick with the chicken pox." said Katie, placing Andromeda in her crib.

Alice shook her head and beckoned them out of the room. "We don't want her around the others. Dragon Pox is contagious. Besides, the saran wrap won't work. She, or another child, could magic it off. We _have _to take her to 's. This is not good. Usually, it doesn't affect children so young as this. She shouldn't be having Pox for another three or four years." _Just my luck, _Lily thought to herself.

Lily nodded and began upstairs to look for an overnight bag. She sometimes hated living in such a big house. It was a shame Voldemort had burnt down the Godric Hollow hideout.

Sititng with his legs sticking out of the railings of the stairs was Lily's oldest son, Roman. He was, it appeared, trying to draw on his arms with a dryed-out marker. Looking up at his mother, he threw the marker down onto the floor and followed her.

"Where are you going, Mum?" he asked, his thin little legs trotting after her.

"We're taking Evie to 's. She's sick. Very sick." The full situation hadn't completely hit Lily yet. Right now she was working in a very narrow-minded one track mind. If she didn't focus just on getting Evie to the hospital, she would probably collapse in the hallway, sobbing.

"I want to go to the park, though. I want to play with my new toy plane."

"When Remus comes, he and you can play in the backyard. I don't want you at the park." Lily said, walking into her bedroom and grabbing a bag. She began filling it with formula, nappies, blankets, and other supplies. Her mind was so filled with thoughts of helping Evie, she didn't notice that Roman had taken everything back _out _of her bag.

"I want to go to the park, Mum. And I want _you_ to take me! I hate Evie, she ruins everything. You should just leave her. Stay with me." Roman knew what he was saying was wrong and mean, but he was used to his opinion being rather high up and his wishes regularly met.

"Your sister is very sick, Roman! Don't you understand that?" Lily yelled, seizing the nappies from him and stuffing them back in the bag.

"I DON'T CARE IF SHE'S SICK! I'M THE BOY-WHO-LIVED AND I WANT TO GO TO THE PARK! I WISH EVIE WOULD JUST DIE!" Roman screamed loudly, tossing himself to the floor. The lights in the hallway flickered and the curtains began billowing from a nonexistent wind. He knew from experience that if he threw a fit loud enough and long enough, he'd get what he wanted.

Lily turned to look back at him, nothing but pure anger across her face. In an alarmingly quiet manner, she grabbed the bag and walked out, down the stairs to where Katie and Alice stood with Evie, who was now coughing heavily. Roman was left in the bedroom by himself, frustrated and slightly scared. He certainly hadn't caused the lights to flicker. Had he? He laid on the carpet for a few more minutes, listening for his mother's _whoosh _into the fireplace, which meant she was gone.

Roman jumped down the last few stairs, ignoring the big burn mark from a few days ago that he'd forgotten to mention to his mother. A cold sort of fury was swarming through him as he marched to the front door, his pack on his shoulders, bursting with magazines and clothes and toys. His dark hair was a tangled mess and he figured that, on the run, one didn't _need _a hairbrush. There would certainly be no adults to tell him to brush his hair if he ran off.

Marie and Harry were waiting for him in one of the sitting rooms, right across from the front door. They sat in identical positions, arms crossed and scowling Somehow, in different circumstances, it would have been funny but right now it only served to irritate him more.

"What do you want?" he snarled, shrugging his bag back into place. Already it dug into his shoulders, heavy with toys. Or, possibly just guilt.

"You yelled at Mum," said Harry quietly, looking much older than his six and a half years. His face was pale and he was very thin, despite hours on a broomstick. "You yelled at her and told her that Evie should die."

"Like you've never yelled at her? Like you've never argued? You're not perfect, Harry!"  
"Neither are you, Roman! You think just because you're the Boy-Who-Lived, you get to do what you want? You're mean to everyone and you're so demanding! You're not King, Roman!"  
Roman glared at his twin. "I am the Boy-Who-Lived," he said through clenched teeth. " Everything is supposed to happen my way. It's because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. I'm more important. More than you or Marie or Evie." It was said with the kind of air only known to a child who has been told but nothing else. In his mind, this was truth.

"No you're _not!_" Harry yelled back and a chair behind him began wobbling, though there was no wind. Marie, looking nervous, flickered back and forth between them and the chair. Her own hair began to float around like a dark halo and she shivered slightly.

"Yes I am," Roman screamed back, trying to push past his brother to the front door, but something shoved him back. He stumbled, falling over. Looking up, he saw his brother, glaring down at him.

"Don't leave, Romey. Just apologise when Mum comes back." he said in a (mostly) quiet voice.

"You're not in _charge!_" Roman yelled and suddenly it was _Harry _who fell over, though no one was near him.

Marie stepped in between them, her hands outstretched and looking scared. "STOP IT! KNOCK IT OFF, YOU GUYS. YOU'RE ACTING LIKE FIVE YEAR OLDS!" she screamed as a vase fell over and smashed.

The boys, too angry to listen, felt their bodies freeze and they were both simultaneously slammed against oposite walls. The lights shut off and they heard screaming from another room.

"What happened?" cried Remus, who had arrived just in time to hear the banging coming from the sitting room.

"Nothing!" all three cried back as innocently as they could as the lights flickered back off. Roman had several scratches across his face and Harry's nose was bleeding. The younger twin got up and glared at his siblings.

"I'll never talk to you again until you apologise to Mum," he said and then stopmed out.

(Of course, being only six, this lasted up until Roman hung the cookie jar inches above Harry's head and threatened to eat them all.)

_**Come on. You will never escape my Author's Notes. **_

_**In defense of Roman: He's had a tough time. His dad has been on a mission for nearly three months, he was "attacked" by several reporters as he walked down the street from school, his mother is paying very little attention to him and his teacher is being very hard on him. **_

_**In defense of Harry:He's obviously very family-oriented and Roman is being rude to his mum. That's not good and Harry thinks Roman should be punished for it, even by himself. Both boys are rash and sometimes don't think things through. **_

_**I have a theory. (I love theories...) My theory is probably wrong, but bear with me. My theory on Dragon Pox:**_

_**(1 Like chicken pox, it is a disease you can only have once. It is contagious, though. **_

_**(2 Pureblooded children and half-blooded children are susceptible to Dragon Pox. Muggleborns are very rarely going to contract this, as they have very little magical contact (except with themselves) until they are eleven. **_

_**(3 Half-blooded children can contract both Muggle and Wizard diseases as easily as if they were Muggle or Pureblooded. B/c they have the gentics of both sides, they have the system of both types of people.**_

_**(4 Like many diseases, the very young and the very old are the most likely to come down with Dragon Pox. This means that infants and young toddlers (like Evie) or very old (see Chauncey Oldridge) are much more likely to HAVE Dragon Pox and DIE of Dragon Pox. Your chances diminish between the ages of 10 to around 60-75. **_

_**(5 The more contact with magic you have, the more likely you are to have Dragon Pox. However, this does not mean people in a MAGIC school will come down with Dragon Pox. I'm talking about built up magic. At school or at the Ministry, a lot of magic is contantly used. As a child or an older person (assuming they are locked up and coddled, told not to move like a two year old0 they get little chances to use their magic and it bottles up inside them. This is especially bad for a 4-8 year old who is coming into an amount of magic strong enough to be called a "magical growthspurt". It's like shaking a bottle of your favorite carbonated drink and shaking it. However, if you ARE surrounded by people with very high levels of magic, some of that is going to tap into you. So, yeah. Evie's in trouble. **_

_**(6 Evie is not going to die of Dragon Pox. Do not panic. **_


	8. The Beginning of a New Generation

_**Did you know, I don't title my chapters until they're uploaded? Yep, until you read this, this chapter was called Chapter 9! **_

_**At this point, Marie is only months away from going to Hogwarts (she's 11). Harry and Roman are in around fifth grade (what is that, in English schooling, Year 5 or Year 6?) (They are 9, almost 10) Charlie is in third grade (he's 8) and Lily's in first (she's 6). Evie is 4 and in preschool (assuming English schooling includes preschool). She is very weak. (but alive). The Potters have had one last child, named Ruby. She is about 9 months old. **_

_**So, 11, 9 ½, 8, 6, 4, and 9 months. Poor Lils. **_

(May 12, 1990)

He trudged home, not making eye contact with anyone, especially not Marie, who kept giving him insistent, nearly withering looks. The _Note_ sat heavily in his pack, a constant reminder of what would be happening when he got home. However, trying to ignore the inevitable only seemed to shorten the walk home to Potter Manor. Behind him, Littlie (as they _still_ called the younger Lily) chattered about how her class was going to be searching for butterflies the next day. No one was really listening, but the mini-copy of their mother doesn't seem to mind as she skipped cheerfully along, talking to herself and, possibly, her imaginary friend, Charlotta.

"You okay, Harry?" asked Marie, not for the first time, clearly unable to leave the subject alone. As the oldest, Marie seemed to think she needed to worry after everyone else, like a second mother. "Because when we get home, if you don't, I'll have to tell Mum. It _is _my duty, as the oldest." _'Right,' _Harry thought to himself, trying not to (visibly) show his frustration. _'When did you get __**that **__duty, again?' _

"Or you could leave the whole thing alone and not bother her with it. After all, she's probably got enough going on between Evie and Ruby." wheedled Roman. The Potter twins weren't the best of siblings, but they still usually stuck up for each other. However, in light of the situation, Harry wasn't so sure his insistence on Marie dropping the subject was..._entirely _selfless.

"What kind of daughter would I be, though, if I didn't warn our parents that their children were not fulfilling their role as a model student?" she insisted, and sped up.

"Does Morry always have to talk like she's got something up her butt?" muttered Charlie, letting go of Littlie's wrist, which he had been only losely gripping before. The house elf who was leading them home, Jolly, sighed and took Littlie's hand, smiling away as she listened to the child's rattling.

The other Potter boys laughed, Harry in a somewhat fake way, as they came into sight of the Potter Manor. Or, more correctly, the front gate _to _the path that led _up _to the Potter Manor. It helped to have a lot of protection when your son was _the _Boy-Who-Lived.

As the five some (not including Jolly, who most people seemed to ignore) walked up to their house, no one gasped at the massive garden, or the bush statues, which waved as the kids walked by. No one seemed awed by the bright apple trees or the gnome (which looked _nothing _like a fat little Santa) that scurried by, diving into the flower beds. No one was surprised to see a purple toad in the pond, nor the sight of the pond itself. But, most of all, no one seemed amazed by the absolutely gargantuan house before them, with windows everywhere and ivy snaking up the walls. Then again, the kids have lived here most their lives. (or, in some cases, their entire lives) After a while, it wasn't that impressive to see a flock of owls hoot overhead or watch a cauldron bubble as their mother, wearing today lime-green robes, stirred the pot, holding a plump baby on her hip.

"Hello children." said Lily, smiling as they walked in, each stopping to give her a quick hug or a kiss on the cheek. Marie sent Harry a sharp look, reminding him of the Note in his bag, but Harry ignored it, coming up to his mother and hugging her, asking how she was. As soon as everyone else had gone inside, Marie marched over to her mother.

"Harry has a not in his backpack, Mum.

"No I don't!" yelled the nine and a half year old, running inside. Unfortunately, his mother was a fully trained witch who happened to be extremely skilled in Charms. His backpack slipped off his shoulders and into his mother's hands, who proceeded to unzip it, pulling out the note.

"It's not entirely my fault!" Harry explained, stuffing his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth. "I was being chased and I was trying to get away, but...I maybe, sort of, might have ended up on the roof by accident?"

"You did magic at school?" Lily asked, opening the letter and reading it. "Hm. Well, we could always pass this off as you were climbing school property. That's what your teacher seems to think. She also says that Roman was on the roof with you? What's that about?"

"Oh, um. He was trying to help me. Because Mulbery and Roberts were chasing me," explained Harry. "But, um, I guess _he's _not being punished, is he?"

"Well, _you're _not, either. At least, not at home. Don't worry, accidental magic is just that-accidental. I won't punish you for something you can't control."

Harry smiled and went inside to begin his homework.

/

(_Sometime in mid-February of 1988) _

"_Are you planning on writing a letter on that paper, or just looking at it, Prongs?" joked Sirius Black, glancing over his friend's shoulder. So far the only words were "Dear Lily," "Only, I don't think Lily-kins will be too happy with just that for a letter,"_

"_Don't call her Lily-kins, Padfoot. She doesn't like it and neither do I. Besides, I'm thinking about what to write." _

"_Well, don't think too hard. Don't want to hurt your brain, do we?"_

"_Padfoot, if your weren't my best mate, I would have killed you a long time ago. It's a right shame the kids like you too much. It'd be pretty hard to explain why Uncle Sirius never comes over anymore," _

_Laughing, Sirius walked out of the bedroom he shared with James, wandering into the kitchen. They had been camping out for almost a month, them and three other men. There were only two girls in the group and Sirius had been very well controlled, not attempting to flirt with them at all. It probably helped that Sirius had an almost two year old daughter at home, along with an attentive wife. But, then, they had been gone for almost five months. There had been a short break last July, when the leader of the group, Mark Chaney, had decided to break for a little due to "lack of evidence". In reality, what that meant was that the thirty-four year old was desperate to get back to his boyfriend. Not that anyone blamed him. _

_But here they were again, stunk in a bunker, looking for Death Eaters. It was boring work, filled with lots of waiting and looking and little action, but both James and Sirius had been warned that this would happen. Besides, eventually Chaney would either give up or they'd find the Death Eaters. _

_There was a clatter outside and James pulled himself out of bed, glancing worriedly at Sirius. Someone began yelling and then more banging. _

"_What do you suppose is going on?" James asked, moving towards the door. Sirius shrugged. _

"_Dammit, Richardson, why didn't you mention this earlier?" yelled Chaney, storming inside. He was red-faced, glaring. "Why are you standing around, Potter? Black? Grab your wands! Let's go!"_

"_Have you found something, sir?" asked Sirius eagerly, rushing after the man. _

"_Yes, now come on! If we let these idiots go, Moody will have my head,"_

_They Apparated to a spot about twenty minutes away. There was a dark, old building in front of them. The place looked abandoned and run down. The perfect spot to hide, if you were a Death Eater with nowhere to go. Chaney had them all cast Disillusionment charms on themselves before sneaking in. Except Marta, the youngest in the group, forgot to mention she didn't actually know that spell. And that's when the actual battle began. _

_Curses flew everywhere. There were about ten or fifteen Death Eaters, but they weren't too experienced in Defensive magic. Mostly they were shooting out Killing Curses or other Dark spells, waving wildly in the hopes of striking an Auror. James and Sirius were paired up, back to back, trying to stop several masked Death Eaters. _

_James disarmed one of them and the man, angry, lunged at Potter. They flew to the ground, the larger __man tackling James, locking him in a choke-hold. Sirius, ignoring his Death Eater, came up and knocked the other man out. _

_The second Death Eater pulled off his mask, grinning at them. His blonde hair covered his chubby face. Small, watery blue eyes smirked at them, but there was fear on his face. Fear of Sirius and James. Fear of something else. _

"_Peter!" James cried, scrambling to his feet. "You traitor!" _

"_I'm not the traitor, James! Sirius is! He is, he made me pretend to be a Death Eater. But he really is, not me!" Peter squeaked, as James grabbed his old friend. "I swear! He came with you to murder me, so I couldn't tell you the truth. James, he's going to murder the Muggles around here!" Behind him, there was a large thundering noise and they heard Ruchardson screaming about Muggles dying in the street. _

"_What?" cried James, letting go of Peter, staring at him. "What the hell are you talking about Pettigrew? Sirius is on our side!"_

"_No, he's not," cried Peter. Suddenly Sirius rushed up and knocked Peter over, wrestling him to the ground. _

"_Stop lying! You little rat! That's not true! James, help me!" screamed Sirius, frantically grabbing at Peter's neck. _

_Peter, who still had his wand, smiled up at Sirius, who was still trying to choke him "Obliviate," he murmured and Sirius fell off him, tumbling to the ground. _

"_You really are a Death Eater, aren't you, Peter?" asked James, staring at his old friend._

"_I needed protection, James. My Master offered me protection."_

"_You helped kill my mother, Peter! You helped to try to kill my children!"_

"_Yes. I'm sorry, James. Obliviate," he said again, pointing at James. James, too, collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Then, still smiling, Peter magically switched his and Sirius' clothes. He wandered around, pointing his wand at everyone else, whispering "Obliviate,". Grimacing, he pulled out a knife, cutting off one of his fingers. _

_Then, he slipped off, running away, changing into his rat form as he ran. Behind him was another loud thundering noise, as the building caught fire. _

_/_

_(June 23, 1988)_

"_We hereby sentence you, Sirius Orion Black, to life's imprisonment in Azkaban, for the murder of three Aurors, Peter Pettigrew an unarmed civilian, and thirteen Muggles." cried the head of the Wizengamot triumphantly, smirking down at the man. _

_Sirius Black said nothing in his own defense, convinced even himself of his own guiltiness. _

_/_

(September 1, 1990) (Present Day)

"Are you _sure _I can't go with Morry to Hogwarts?" asked six year old Lily Potter, looking up at her mother. "I'd be very, very, very well behaved. I'd do everything I'm told, I swear. Please?"

"No," laughed her mother, smiling as she bent down to pick up the girl. "I'm afraid you're still too young for Hogwarts. You'll have to wait,"

"But I don't want to wait five whole years!" whined the red head. "It's not fair. Morry gets a wand and an owl and Hogwarts! I wanna come, too!"

"When you're eleven, we'll buy _you _a wand and an owl and you'll go to Hogwarts as well, but right now, you're six years old. Look at your brothers," explained James, waving his hand at the three Potter boys, who stood (or sat, in Harry's case) near their eldest sister, Morry. "They aren't complaining, now are they?"

"But they don't have to wait _as long _as I do! It will be absolutely _forever _before I get to go! Hogwarts might shut down before then!" Lily said dramatically, giving her parents her best "it's the end of the world" look.

While this was going on, Marie was hugging her three brothers.

"Bye," she said, showing Roman her new wand. (beech and uniorn hair, very supple) "I'll miss you all at Hogwarts."

"Write?" asked Roman.

"Every single day?" continued Harry. Although the twins weren't _completely _identical, they still seemed to know what the other was thinking quite often.

"Yes, yes. I'll write all you ten letters a day," laughed Marie, waving at a friend of hers.

"Even Ruby and Evie?" asked Charlie, smiling.

"Yeah, sure."

"Lily Dorea Potter, you get off that train right now or so help me!" shrieked their mother behind them.

/

_Dear Mum and Dad (and the little kids too),_

_Hogwarts is nice. I enjoy it very much, even though we've only been here for 2 days. Hagrid is very friendly and has already invited me over for tea next Friday. Our Head of House, Professor McGonagall is very strict. Already, she's taken away 5 points from our class. So much for favoritism, huh? _

_Anyway, as you can tell, I'm in Gryffindor, now! There are four other girls in my dorm, but I only know two. Katie Bell, of course, and Maria Valeria. One girl is a Muggleborn named Christine and the last girl is named Jenna Tortinelli. They're nice, but Christine is very quite. _

_The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is a very nice woman named Professor Burmenstein. She says she's only staying the year, and then she's going to travel the world! Doesn't that sound exciting? I don't suppose I could talk you into allowing me to do that, one day? _

_Professor Snape is just as surly as you said, Dad. He asked us some very hard questions and no on, except for Jenna, knew the answer to **any **of them. Why does he have to be so hard on us? We're only eleven! Anyway..._

/

_**Someone, not going to say who, sent me a PM, chewing me out for being gone for a while. First off, thanks (you know who you are) for the message. This must be a sign you like the story, since you took time to inform me to say (and I quote) "you take so much time between chapters that I have given up on constantly reloading the page every few hours in the hope that an 8th chapter has arrived". (Awwwww, thanks!) Second, I apologise. I've been busy with school and other stories. I'm sorry. Also, I've been having a time coming up with continuations of various stories (see Ultimum Perditum) I hope you (and everyone else) understands and forgives me. **_


	9. Romey shows he has a heart more or less

"_**The only way to reassure yourself about your own writing is to read something worse than your own. The problem is, you're naturally biased to think your own writing is better than ANYONE else's"-a friend. Be honest, now. Is my grammar and spelling atrocious? **_

_**I feel MUCH better about this chapter. Dunno why, but I was way too eager to write it. Except my cat is being evil and sitting on my computer. Away with ye, Simba! Away! One question though. If Harry was the only one who could defeat Voldy, then why didn't Voldy just wait for Harry to die before coming back? You know, take his blood then have Wormy slit his throat? **_

/

Lily and James were working smoothly, washing and drying the dishes by hand. Lily insisted that she wanted to do chores the normal wake-without magic-but James had caught her several times jabbing her wand at the beds in a desperate attempt to straighten the sheets out. But right now, she washing, he running a hand towel over the plates, this was _their _time. No kids asking for bed time stories, no one crying, no noise. Sure, just next door in the largest living room, six of their seven kids were watching television and smothering each other with pillows, but for ten minutes, it wasn't _their _problem.

They often spent these ten or fifteen minutes talking about work and the children. Always, this was their quite time, their time to chat and unwind. With their youngest daughter at not quite two, and their oldest having just finished her first year at Hogwarts (with no major incidents, thank Merlin) even their late nights were filled with bedding children and calming Ruby. And always, one of them would Floo to St. Mungo's to spend the night with Evie, who now permanently slept on the second floor, Magical Bugs and Diseases. She clearly had Dragon Pox, but the disease had taken a nasty turn, spreading farther than was normal, all over her body. She was covered in the green spots, which had also shifted into purple and brown as well. She had a fever constantly, switching between fevered sleep and hallucinations when she was awake. Evie hadn't recognised one of them since she was admitted, instead screaming at her own mother to get out. She seemed to have no control of her magic, letting it lash out at everyone. James had decided that the kids should not come into the room anymore, after Harry's face was cut by Evie's untamed magic. The main Healer who worked with Evie had explained that, while rare, this was something the hospital had handled before. Not that there was much chance for survival when the Pox had spread quite so _far. _In fact, said Healer Domri, James and Lily might want to prepare for the worst at any moment.

But for right now, they didn't have to worry about Evie. Lily could imagine that all of her children were in the living room instead of most of them. She could pretend that Evie wasn't sick and everything was going wonderfully.

"I got two letters today." Lily commented, handing James a plastic bowl, the only kind they could trust Ruby with. The girl was only ten months old but she had a very strong arm and liked to prove it by tossing everything down from her crib or high chair or wherever else she had been sentenced to. James liked to call her "his little Beater", insisting that he was raising the "perfect Quidditch team".

"Oh," murmured James, leaning over to kiss her. "The boys' acceptance letters?"

"No, not for another few weeks. But I did get a letter from Hogwarts. And I got one from Marthrow Academy." she said this last part quietly, turning to look away from her husband's inquisitive face. Marthrow Academy was a prestigious magical school on it's own island several miles offshore from Ireland. It was shrouded in magic, hidden from anyone who didn't attend the school. Even parents of students were incapable of locating the school. Fireplaces did not link there through the Floo network and only special school owls delivered the mail.

"Why would you get a letter from Marthrow Academy?" asked James, shooting her a puzzled look. The school did not accept more than twenty students a year and no one applied. You were either chosen or not. Only the best got in, which usually meant the most high-class Wizarding families, only the ones of purest blood. The only reason that the Malfoys weren't currently traipsing the halls of this school was that the school didn't want to be associated with Dark Magic. "Are they choosing one of the kids or something? Were they interested in hiring you?" Lily, though currently claiming her job was "to take care of her kids," was licensed to teach at almost any school in the world, as long as they spoke English.

"Um, no. Not _me. _They...uh, they were asking after Roman." she blushed, hiding her face. James glanced towards the living room, watching the two dark heads, wrestling with each other. Sure, the twins weren't _best friends, _but they were very close. Both were very eager to start Hogwarts in September-_together_. "They want him to come to school this September. As a student."

"Why?" asked James, feeling very stupid. He knew his son was the very reason Voldemort was gone. He knew this meant that his son was very powerful and would one day be very high up in the world. But still, he couldn't connect that with him attending _the _top school of the United Kingdom, if not the entirety of Europe.

"Why? Why? Because he would make their school look good! That's all! Isn't that what _everyone _wants? To say _they _have Roman Potter backing _them _up! I don't want to separate my babies, James, but I know how good this would be for Roman. Even if they _are _using him, he would be getting a wonderful education. I don't know what to do, James. They've given me until August first to respond, but I don't know what to say. If I say no, I'm chasing my son away from possibly the best education of his life. But if I say yes, I'm separating him from his siblings-from his own twin!"

"I don't know, Lils. Maybe..." he trailed off as Marie came into the kitchen, very red-faced but smiling. "Hey, Morry," said James, bending to hug his oldest child. Behind him, Lily wiped her eyes, mentally cursing herself for crying over something so ridiculous as school. "What did you want, sweetie?"

"Oh, uh." stammered Morry, seeing her mother's red-ringed eyes. "Um, just some crisps."

"You just ate," laughed James, but he turned to grab some chips anyway. "I swear, I don't know where you lot pack it away. You must get it from me. Here you go, then," he said, handing her a bag of crisps. She smiled and, shooting her mother another worried look, ran back to her siblings. It was July Twenty-Second, only third day back from school. So far, the other kids had shared a air of awe around Marie, begging her to describe Hogwarts and Quidditch and classes.

"What are we going to do?" asked Lily the second their daughter had left. She looked at her husband, searching his face for an answer. "I don't want to deprive him of a great magical education, but I don't want to thrust him into a situation where he wouldn't know anyone,"

James sighed, sitting down at the table, rubbing at his face tiredly. "Either way, people will treat him special, no matter what school he goes to. Roman is old enough to make his own choice, don't you think, Lils? I think we ought to ask him what _he _wants to do."

Lily nodded, shooting a desperate look at the sink, empty of dishes. She wished that she had something to do other than wring her hands and wonder what to do. She felt nervous, scared even, to find out whether Roman would choose Hogwarts or Marthrow. Lily had gone to Hogwarts. James had gone to Hogwarts. Merlin, his _entire _family had gone to Hogwarts! What would she do if Roman _did _decide to go to Marthrow? How would _Harry _respond, knowing his twin would be leaving?

"I'll go fetch him, then," said James, seeing the frantic look in his wife's eyes. She had been over-taxing herself, stretched between the kids and St. Mungo's. She often insisted on going to the hospital for nights on end, coming home with shadows under her eyes. She would smile and act happy, but James could see Lily was worn out.

James walked into the living room, which was now a scene of complete chaos. Marie was sprawled on the rug, doing her summer homework and feeding the cats crisps, seemingly oblivious to the noise around her. Harry, Roman, and Charlie were walking each other with pillows, the younger boys ganging up on Roman to tackle him to the ground. Lily, who was seven and "much more betterer now", sat on the couch with little Ruby, reading a story to the girl. Ruby didn't seem to be listening, too intent on nibbling her toes to pay any attention. James couldn't hear himself think as he watched all his kids. Well, _almost _all his kids. James still felt a pain every time he saw Evie absent from their life, every photograph that she wasn't in.

"Hey Romey?" called James and there was instant silence, the children pausing to look up at him. Usually, Roman was called off and when he was, it was typically because of something he and Harry had gotten into. "Listen, can you come into the kitchen with me? Alone?" James said, seeing Harry stagger away from all the pillows to follow his twin.

"Um, sure," said Roman, giving his father a puzzled look. Harry, too, looked confused as Marie grabbed his arm and whispered something in his ear.

"What's going on, Da?" asked Roman, following him back to the kitchen. James still wasn't used to the name "Da", something the kids had picked up on after a trip to Ireland when the twins were three. All his children used it, even Ruby, who's vocabulary consisted of, at most, a dozen words.

"Sit down Roman," said James, pointing at the chair next to Lily. He saw the nervous look on his oldest son's face and tried to smile reassuringly. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble. Yet. Mum and I just want to talk to you about school."

"School? What do you mean? I'm still going to Hogwarts, right?"

"Well," began Lily, fishing the letter from Marthrow out of her pocket, handing it to Roman.

It read thusly:

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Potter,_

_As you are well aware, The Marthrow Academy, School of Magical Training and Equipment, accepts but twenty students every year to attend our school. It has come to our attention that your son, Roman Romulus Potter, is close the appropiate calling age. We would be well pleased if you were to accept our invitation. We are the top school in the United Kingdom for a magical education and feel that your son would fit in very nicely with our school niche. _

_If you accept this great honour, as we are sure you shall, please send us your response via owl by the first of August. _

_Sincerely, _

_Lady Greta Shcenmar, Deputy Headmistress of The Marthrow Academy, School of Magical Training and Equipment_

"I don't think I understand. These people, they want me to go to their school right? Instead of Hogwarts?" asked Roman, looking at his parents.

"Yes,"

"Well, what's the problem, then? Just send 'em a letter back that says thanks, but sorry. I'm going to Hogwarts with Morry and Harry and I'm going to be in Gryffindor. At _Hogwarts. _I don't see any problem,"

"Yes, but you must understand, Roman, that Marthrow is the top school in all of the United Kingdom, if not Europe entirely. You would be getting an exquisite education, even better than the one at Hogwarts," said Lily.

"But I would be away from Harry, right?" said Roman, scrunching up his face as he considered it. His parents nodded. "Then I'm going to Hogwarts. I'm not leaving Harry alone. He needs all the help he can get." With that, the ten year old got out of his and chair and started for the door.

"Are you sure about this, Roman?" asked James. The hazel-eyed boy nodded, entirely confident.

"Yes. I want to go to school with Morry and Harry and make friends at Hogwarts. Unless they accept Harry as well, I don't want to go."

"Lily, just out of curiosity," began James, turning to his dumbstruck wife. "what was the second letter about? The one from Hogwarts?"

"Oh-oh. Ah, they wanted me to teach at, ah, the school. But don't worry, I've already rejected them. I have to stay here with the kids."

"Of course," snickered James, turning away. Of course his wife would put her own life on hold for the children.

"Romey's really grown up, hasn't he? Hasn't he, James?"

"Yeah. A lot."

/

_**Alright, you know you want to. Just do it. Ahhhhh, Romey DOES have a heart. Kind of. Sort of. **_

_**I read somewhere that a Hogwarts School Year ends in the 2nd or 3rd week of July, and that is how I am basing the story. If you can show me an essay or document that says otherwise, it would be appreciated and I would change the story to reflect that situation. Mainly b/c I despise being inaccurate. In fact, feel free to tell me anything and everything I've done wrong! **_

_**Also, I hate to do this, but I would REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY love it if you reviewed. So, yah! **_


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